r     : 


' 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


! 


MARY  BURTOI 


OTHER    STORIES 


BOSTON : 

THOMAS    B.    NOONAN    &    CO. 

1884. 


F.lectrotyped  and  Printed  by 
CASHMAN(  KEATING  &  Co. 
603  Washington  St.,  Boston. 


TZ7 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

MARY  BURTOX 5 

ZOE;  OK,  THE  METAMORPHOSIS 23 

A  WHOLESOME  LESSON 71 

THE  YOUXG  BALLAD  SIXGER 07 

THE  MYSTERIOUS  BEXEF  ACTOR 125 

AX  UXEXPECTED  MEETIXG 159 

BREAD  AXD  CHEESE 191 

THE  OPAL  STUD 235 

ISABELLA 205 

THE  MAY  QUEEX 293 

FATHER  is  COMIXG 299 


622791 


MARY  BURTON. 


|T  is  many  years  ago  that  I  went  one 
morning,  at  the  request  of  the  clergy- 
man of  my  parish,  to  undertake  the  teaching 
of  a  class  of  Sunday  scholars.  As  I  entered 
the  room,  in  which  my  duties  were  in  future 
to  be  performed  every  Sunday  morning, 
the  nervous  feeling  which  had  been  gather- 
ing strength  as  I  walked  along,  almost  over- 
came me,  and  I  think  I  should  have  turned 
and  run  home  again,  had  not  the  kind  clergy- 
man caught  sight  of  my  anxious  face,  and 
come  forward  to  encourage  me. 


6  A   BOOK   FOR   GIIILS. 

"  That  is  right,  Miss  Smith,"  he  said,  as 
he  shook  hands  with  me.  "  I  am  glad  you 
have  consented  to  comply  with  my  wishes, 
and  to  take  a  class  here." 

"  If  I  could  only  teach  them  right,"  I 
answered  timidly  ;  "  but  I  feel  as  if  I  should 
be  better  employed  in  learning  than  in 
teaching." 

"You  have  been  learning  for  many 
months  past,"  he  answered  kindly,  "learn- 
ing from  higher  than  mere  human  teaching, 
learning  in  the  school  of  sorrow  and  of 
suffering.  Let  it  be  seen  that  the  lesson 
has  not  been  sent  in  vain.  Strive  to  lead 
others  to  that  gracious  Saviour,  whom  you 
have  yourself  learned  to  love,  and  who  said, 
'  Suffer  little  children  to  come  unto  Me.'" 

He  led  me  to  a  class  of  little  girls  seated 
at  the  further  end  of  the  room,  and  left  me 
with  them.  I  glanced  at  the  faces  turned 
inquisitively  towards  the  "  new  teacher." 
I  will  relate  the  subsequent  history  of  one 
of  these  children,  whose  appearance  particu- 
larly impressed  me. 


MARY   BURTON. 


Mary  Burton  was  a  fair-haired,  blue-eyed 
girl,  with  an  expression  of  contentment  on 
her  face,  which  made  it  pleasant  to  look  at 
her.  She  was  eleven  years  old,  she  told 
me,  and  lived  with  her  mother,  who  was  a 
widow.  I  made  a  point  of  becoming  ac- 
quainted with  my  children  in  their  own 
homes  ;  and  as  Mary  was  never  in  during 
the  week,  being  employed  as  a  message-girl 
at  a  neighboring  green-grocer's,  I  went  one 
Sunday,  after  afternoon  service,  to  see  her. 
I  found  the  family  seated  at  tea.  Every- 
thing was  neat  and  clean  ;  and  the  mother, 
in  her  widow's  dress  and  cap,  looked  the 
picture  of  decent  and  respectable  poverty. 
She  told  me  she  had  been  seven  years  a 
widow,  and  that  her  youngest  child  (she 
had  three)  had  been  born  two  months  after 
his  father's  death. 

"I  have  had  a  hard  struggle  to  keep 
things  straight,  ma'am,"  she  said  ;  "  but  now 
that  Mary  is  growing  up  to  be  a  help  and 
comfort  to  me,  I  feel  as  if  a  great  burden 
was  taken  off  me  ;  for  I  know  that  she  will 


A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 


do  what  she  can  to  work  for  her  mother, 
and  that,  as  long  as  she  lives,  her  brothers 
will  not  want  for  a  good  example  and  good 
advice."  Mary's  face  was  flushed  with  pleas- 
ure at  her  mother's  praise,  and  at  the  few 
words  of  encouragement  which  I  gave  her. 

As  I  rose  to  take  my  leave,  I  said,  "I 
will  leave  you  a  maxim  to  think  about, 
Mary.  It  is  this  :  '  Godliness  with  content- 
ment is  great  gain.'  God  has  blessed  you 
with  a  naturally  contented  disposition,  but 
something  more  is  needed.  May  you,  like 
Mary  of  old,  be  enabled  to  choose  that  good 
part,  which  shall  never  be  taken  from  you." 

When  Mary  was  fourteen  years  old  her 
mother  was  taken  very  ill.  It  was  a  painful 
and  lingering  disease,  borne  with  such  meek 
patience  as  taught  a  sweet  lesson  of  faith 
and  trust  to  all  who  were  privileged  to  see 
her  in  her  affliction.  Mary  came  home  to 
look  after  the  invalid  and  her  two  little 
brothers,  and  it  was  then  that  her  mother 
found  the  blessing  of  having  "trained  up 
her  child  in  the  way  it  should  go."  Early 


MARY  BURTON. 


accustomed  to  orderly  habits  and  to  hard 
work,  it  was  wonderful  how  that  young  girl 
contrived  to  keep  everything  about  the  poor 
invalid  clean  and  comfortable,  to  have  the 
room  always  tidy,  and  her  brothers'  clothes 
well  washed  and  mended. 

They  had  many  difficulties  and  hardships. 
The  boys  could  only  earn  five  dollars  a  week 
between  them,  and  this  did  not  allow  food 
sufficient  for  three  growing  and  hard-worked 
children,  and  the  round  faces  became  blue 
and  pinched  ;  still  there  was  no  murmuring, 
or  parade  of  want.  Go  when  I  would,  Mary 
was  busy  with  her  work,  and,  amid  all  their 
poverty,  kept  up  an  appearance  of  comfort, 
by  her  clean  and  tidy  ways. 

One  day  I  remember  I  found  her  with  a 
face  unusually  pale,  and  the  evident  traces 
of  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Mary?"  I  said. 

She  made  a  sign  towards  her  mother's 
bed,  as  if  to  beg  me  not  to  draw  attention 
to  her  distress,  and  answered,  as  she  dusted 
a  chair  and  placed  it  near  the  bed  for  me, 


10  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

"Nothing,  ma'am;  I  think  mother's  keep- 
ing pretty  well  just  now." 

Her  mother  had  turned  anxiously  around 
as  I  asked  the  question ;  but  Mary  had  so 
naturally  contrived  her  answer,  placing  her- 
self at  the  same  time  in  a  position  which 
should  conceal  her  face  without  an  apparent 
intention  to  do  so,  that  Mrs.  Burton  was 
satisfied.  It  was  my  practice,  when  I  visited 
the  widow,  to  read  a  chapter  aloud,  which 
we  talked  over  afterwards.  Her  religion 
was  not  a  mere  talk  ;  it  was  a  real  posses- 
sion. She  knew  "in  whom  she  could  trust ; " 
and,  in  her  hour  of  trial,  of  bodily  suffering, 
and  often  of  actual  want,  she  would  carry 
her  trials  and  troubles  to  her  Saviour,  and, 
laying  the  burden  at  His  feet  rest  contented 

•/          o 

in  the  assurance,  "The  Lord  will  provide." 
She  was  generally  a  woman  of  few  words ; 
but  that  day  she  spoke  more  than  was  her 
wont,  and,  among  other  things,  reminded 
me  of  the  maxim  which  I  had  left  with  Mary 
on  my  first  visit  to  them. 

"  It  has  often  been  a  comfort  to  me  since," 


MARY   BURTON.  11 

she  said,  "  and  I  am  sure  I  find  the  truth  of 
it  more  and  more  every  day.  To  know 
that  our  daily  bread  comes  direct  from  our 
Father's  hands,  seems  to  make  it  taste  the 
sweeter ;  and  when  things  have  gone  harder 
than  usual,  and  I  could  see  no  way  how  we 
could  get  help,  the  help  has  come  often  in  a 
way  that  1  least  expected,  till  I  have  been 
made  to  feel  that  to  be  content  with  what 
the  Lord  is  pleased  to  give  us,  and  to  see 
and  know  that  all  comes  from  His  loving 
hands,  is  indeed  the  greatest  gain." 

I  observed  that  as  she  spoke,  Mary  rather 
paused  in  her  work,  and  at  last  she  left  off 
altogether,  and  stood  looking  out  of  the 
window,  while  her  hands  hung  listlessly  at 
her  side.  It  may  be  easily  supposed  that 
I  did  not  usually  go  to  the  house  empty- 
handed.  I  have  little  sympathy  with  the 
piety  which  leads  some  really  good  people 
to  visit  the  houses  of  the  poor,  to  read  to 
them,  and  to  give  them  tracts,  and  to  over- 
look their  bodily  wants  and  suffering  al- 
together. Such,  at  all  events,  was  not  the 


12  A   BOOK   FOE   GIRLS. 

practice  of  "  Him  who  has  left  us  an  ex- 
ample that  we  should  follow  his  footsteps." 

It  had  not  pleased  God  to  endow  me 
largely  with  worldly  goods,  but  it  does  not 
require  large  means  to  enable  one  to  be  kind 
and  helpful  to  the  poor.  If  we  bring  a  will- 
ing heart  to  the  work,  we  shall  soon  find 
many  ways  at  helping,  at  no  greater  cost 
than  some  slight  personal  inconvenience  or 
self-denial.  That  day  I  had  in  my  purse  a 
five-dollar  piece  which  a  wealthy  friend,  to 
whom  I  had  spoken  of  the  widow's  patient 
suffering,  had  given  me  for  her  use.  As  I 
saw  that  something  had  gone  wrong  with 
Mary,  and  that  she  was  anxious  to  conceal 
her  distress  from  her  mother,  I  determined 
on  speaking  to  her  when  she  accompanied 
me  to  the  outer  door,  which  she  usually  did, 
and  that  I  would  give  her  the  money  then. 

Mary  looked  nervous  when  I  rose  to  go 
away,  and  as  if  she  would  be  glad  of  an  ex- 
cuse for  not  accompanying  me.  She  saw 
however,  that  I  expected  her,  and  followed 
with  a  slow,  unwilling  step.  When  we 


MARY   BURTON.  13 


were  quite  out  of  her  mother's  hearing,  I 
stopped. 

"  There  is  something  vexing  you,  Mary," 
I  said,  "  and  I  suspect  you  do  not  want  to 
tell  me  what  it  is.  If  it  would  be  any 
comfort  to  speak  to  a  true  friend  about 
your  troubles,  I  would  willingly  hear  what  is 
the  matter ;  but  if  you  would  rather  not  tell 
me,  I  shall  not  feel  hurt." 

I  waited  a  moment,  and  as  she  remained 
silent,  I  added,  — 

"  I  see  you  would  rather  not ;  but  remem- 
ber, dear  Mary,  that  there  is  One  whose  ear 
is  ever  open  to  our  cry,  who  is  ever  ready  to 
pity  and  to  help  us.  Tell  your  trouble  to 
Him  —  ask  His  guidance  if  you  are  in  diffi- 
culty —  cast  your  care  upon  Him  if  you  are 
in  trouble,  and  be  assured  that  none  who  go 
in  simple  trust  to  Him,  shall  be  sent  empty 
away." 

She  answered,  — 

"  Oh,  Miss  Smith,  I  have  prayed,  indeed 
I  have,  but,"  — 

"  But  it  seems  to  you  as  if  the  Lord  had 


14  A  BOOK  FOR  GIRLS. 

not  heard  your  prayer,"  I  said,  finishing  her 
sentence  for  her.  "  He  does  not  always  an- 
swer us  in  the  way  that  we  expect ;  we  are 
poor  blind  creatures,  and  do  not  know  what 
to  ask  for  as  we  ought ;  but  be  assured  that 
the  prayer  of  faith  will  be  answered ;  if  not 
in  the  way  we  wish,  at  any  rate  in  the  way 
that  will  be  best  for  us.  I  will  not  detain 
you  any  longer  from  your  mother,"  I  added  ; 
' '  she  may  wonder  what  is  keeping  you.  Here 
is  a  small  sum  which  a  friend  gave  me  for 
you.  I  have  seen  that  you  are  to  be  trusted 
with  money,  and  that  you  are  thoughtful  and 
prudent  in  spending  the  little  you  have  ;  so 
I  feel  sure  you  will  lay  this  out  to  the  best 
advantage." 

She  looked  at  me  with  an  eagerness  in 
her  large  blue  eyes  that  quite  startled  me ; 
clasped  her  hands  together,  and  for  some 
minutes  remained  sHent ;  then  she  burst  into 
a  fit  of  passionate,  almost  hysterical  weep- 
ing, which  shook  her  the  more,  that  she 
endeavored  to  suppress  all  sound.  When 
she  was  a  little  composed,  she  explained  the 


MARY   BURTON.  15 

cause  of  her  agitation.  Her  elder  brother, 
whose  earnings  brought  three  dollars  a  week 
to  the  family,  had  completely  worn  out  his 
shoes  and  his  clothes,  and  his  master  had 
more  than  once  threatened  to  dismiss  him 
unless  he  were  better  clad.  Poor  Mary  had 
almost  denied  herself  necessary  food,  in  the 
endeavor  to  lay  by  a  sufficient  sum  to  buy 
him  a  pair  of  shoes ;  but  meanwhile,  in 
spite  of  constant  mending,  his  clothes  had 
become  so  worn  that  they  would  scarcely 
hold  together,  and  on  Monday,  his  master 
had  warned  him  that  this  must  be  his  last 
week,  unless  he  came  better  clothed.  Fri- 
day had  come,  and  Mary  was  as  far  as  ever 
from  having  obtained  money  for  so  exten- 
. sive  a  purchase,  and  saw  no  means  of  get- 
ting it,  and  hence  arose  her  anxious,  care- 
worn looks. 

"  I  could  not  tell  mother,"  she  said,  "  for 
the  doctor  says  she  must  not  be  fretted ;  it 
might  cost  her  her  life." 

< '  And  why  could  you  not  tell  me  ? "  I 
answered. 


16  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

"  Oh  !  ma'am,  I  thought  shame,  when  you 
have  done  so  much  for  us  already  ;  'twould 
have  been  begging  like." 

She  was  crying  still,  for  the  poor  child 
was  weak  for  want  of  sufficient  food ;  so  I 
said,  soothingly,  — 

"You  went  to  the  right  quarter,  Mary, 
and  He,  whose  kind  heart,  when  he  was  on 
earth,  never  allowed  Him  to  despise  the  cry 
of  the  weakest  or  poorest,  has  proved  that 
He  is  '  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  for- 
ever.' As  surely  does  this  help  come  from 
Him,  though  through  my  hand,  as  when  in 
olden  times  He  commissioned  the  ravens  to 
feed  the  prophet,  or  multiplied  the  five  loaves 
and  two  small  fishes  into  food  for  five  thou- 
sand fainting  followers." 

o 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  I  feel  it  now.  Mother  often 
told  me  to  trust  in  Him ;  but  somehow  I 
thought  I  was  such  a  weak,  wicked  creature, 
He  could  never  listen  to  me  ;  but  now  I  feel 
as  if  I  could  never  doubt  Him  again,  for  it 
seems  as  if  He  had  sent  you  o'  purpose  to 
help  us  in  our  great  need." 


MARY  BURTON.  17 

And,  indeed,  from  that  time  she  seemed 
able  to  cast  her  whole  care  upon  her  Saviour 
God,  She  had,  been  contented  before  ;  her 
training  and  natural  temperament  had  made 
her  so  ;  but  now  a  higher  element  was  added 
—  a  simple  trust  in  her  heavenly  Father's 
love  and  care,  an  earnest  faith  in  the  redemp- 
tion purchased  by  the  blood  of  His  dear  Son, 
with  the  abiding  presence  of  that  Comforter, 
whose  offices  of  love  were  the  Saviour's  dying 
bequest  to  His  people,  filled  her  heart,  and 
constituted  that  godliness  which,  with  con- 
tentment, she  truly  found  to  be  great  gain. 

Some  months  later  Mrs.  Burton  died. 

Mary  had  dearly  loved  her  mother,  and 
had  looked  up  to  her  in  everything  for  ad- 
vice. It  was  a  bitter  loss,  but  she  bore  it 
with  sweet,  unmurmuring  patience. 

"  I  know  she  is  happy  now,"  she  said,  as 
she  uncovered  the  pale  face,  and  her  hot  tears 
dropped  fast  upon  it.  "I  must  try  to  re- 
member all  she  used  to  tell  me,  but,  oh  !  I 
can  never  be  like  her,  so  good,  so  patient." 

We  can  say  little  in  the  faco  of  death  ;  those 


IS  A   BOOK  FOR   GIRLS. 

white,  silent  lips  are  far  more  eloquent  than 
ours ;  they  speak  to  the  bereaved  in  a  lan- 
guage which  the  mere  spectator  neither  hears 
nor  understands,  so  I  thought  it  kinder  to 
leave  Mary  to  her  Saviour  and  her  great 
sorrow. 

When  I  returned  the  following  day  she 
was  herself  again,  quite  composed  and  calm. 
It  had  been  her  mother's  earnest  wish  that 
Mary  should,  if  possible,  keep  house  for  her 
brothers. 

It  was  not  easy,  but  she  effected  it ;  she 
was  clever  and  I  was  fortunate  in  interesting 
an  excellent  woman  in  the  neighborhood  in 
her  case.  This  woman  was  a  clear-starcher  ; 
she  taught  Mary  her  business  without  any 
charge  and  gave  her  constant  employment. 
Her  brothers'  earnings,  too,  increased  as  they 
grew  older  ;  so  that,  after  a  time,  they  lived 
in  comparative  comfort. 

When  Mary  was  twenty  years  of  age,  she 
married  a  farmer,  who  lived  about  five  miles 
out  of  town.  Her  elder  brother  had  obtained 
an  excellent  situation  through  his  steadiness 


MARY  BURTON.  19 

and  good  character.  This  enabled  him  to  go 
into  comfortable  and  respectable  lodgings, 
and  his  younger  brother  went  to  live  with 
him.  They  were  both  excellent,  steady  lads, 
and  in  a  fair  way  to  get  on  in  the  world. 

It  was  fully  four  years  after  Mary's  mar- 
riage that  I  one  day  resolved  to  make  her  a 
visit,  which  she  had  earnestly  pressed  upon 
me  before  she  left  the  home  where  I  had  first 
known  her.  I  availed  myself  of  a  coach 
which  took  me  to  within  two  miles  of  the 
village  where  Mary  lived,  and  walked  the 
rest  of  the  way. 

My  path  lay  through  corn-fields  and  green 
lanes,  and  I  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  contrast 
afforded  by  the  pleasant  sights  and  sounds  of 
the  country  with  the  bustle  and  turmoil  of 
dirty  and  crowded  streets.  A  neat  cottage, 
with  a  pretty  garden  in  front  of  it,  was  pointed 
out  to  me  as  Mary's  home.  I  was  prepared 
for  order  and  cleanliness,  but  scarcely  for  the 
almost  elegant  comfort  that  pervaded  the 
room.  The  furniture  wTas  of  the  plainest 
description,  but  there  was  an  exquisite  neat- 


20  A   BOOK   FOR  GIRLS. 

ness,  and  even  taste,  in  its  arrangement, 
which  made  one  feel  that  the  mistress  of  such 
a  house  was  no  ordinary  person. 

Mary  herself  was  there,  with  a  baby  on  her 
knee,  and  a  pretty  little  creature,  two  years 
old,  playing  near  her  on  the  floor.  She 
greeted  me  with  a  happy  smile. 

"  Oh  !  ma'am,"  she  said,  "  this  is  kind.  I 
have  longed  so  to  show  you  my  new  home, 
and  my  little  ones  ! " 

"  And  I  often  wished  to  come, "I  answered  ; 
"but,  as  you  know,  I  have  a  great  deal  at 
home  to  occupy  my  time,  and  when  I  have 
planned  to  come,  something  has  occurred  to 
prevent  me." 

It  was  a  pleasant  visit.  We  spoke  of  her 
mother  and  of  past  times,  of  her  present  cir- 
cumstances and  future  prospects. 

"  Oh,  ma'am,"  she  said,  and  grateful  tears 
filled  her  eyes,  "  I  feel  as  if  I  never  can  be 
thankful  to  my  Father  in  heaven  for  all  His 
goodness.  Of  course,  we  have  had  our 
troubles  at  times,  and,  worst  of  all,  was  when 
my  little  baby  died,  our  first,  when  it  was  six 


MARY  BURTON.  21 

months  old ;  but,  through  all,  we  seem  to 
have  had  so  much  comfort  and  peace,  as  if 
the  Lord,  Hjmself,  was  comforting  and 
strengthening  us.  So  that  I  am  sure  we 
have  reason  to  say,  '  Bless  the  Lord,  O  my 
soul,  and  forget  not  all  His  benefits.'" 

"  Ah,  Mary,"  I  answered,  as  I  rose  to  go, 
"  you  know  now,  by  happy  experience,  that 
'  Godliness  with  contentment  is  great  gain.' " 

As  I  walked  home  that  beautiful  summer 
evening,  watching  the  golden  sunset,  and  the 
purple  hue  of  declining  day  stealing  over  hill 
and  valley,  and  thought  of  Mary  with  her 
sweet  face  and  quiet  happiness  and  peace, 
these  words  came  to  my  mind,— 

' '  God  hath  appointed  one  remedy  for  all 
the  evils  in  this  world,  and  that  is  — a  con- 
tented spirit." 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE     SORCERER. 
i 

ADZIUN  a  Poun  !  " 

'  Hadziun  a  Poun  ! " 
' '  Hadziun  a  Poun  !  " 

These  magic  words  were  pronounced  in  a 
terrible  voice,  one  winter  evening,  by  an  old 
man,  of  a  gloomy  and  malevolent  aspect. 
He  wore  a  high,  pointed,  black  silk  hat,  and 
a  long,  black  old  gown  that  reached  to  his 
feet.  Seated  on  a  curiously-formed  stool,  he 

23 


24  A    BOOK   FOU   GIRLS. 

turned  persistently  the  handle  of  a  vessel  in 
which  something  extraordinary  seemed  to  be 
boiling.  This  old  man  was  not  a  confec- 
tioner, and  they  were  not  cakes  or  creams  of 
which  he  took  such  care ;  he  was  not  mak- 
ing soup,  or  panoda,  or  anything  you  could 
imagine.  The  old  fellow  was  a  sorcerer, 
dear  children,  a  wise  man,  but  a  wicked  man 
at  the  same  time  ;  that  is  to  say,  one  who 
employed  his  knowledge  to  do  evil,  just  as 
good  men  use  science  to  ameliorate  the  con- 
dition of  mankind. 

This  sorcerer  had  read  somewhere  of 
another  sorcerer,  who  had,  by  means  of  his 
arts,  formed  a  man  out  of  clay,  bones,  and 
ashes,  and  who  had  animated  the  senseless 
mass  by  the  use  of  certain  magic  words.  He 
had  taken  it  upon  himself  to  imitate  the  work 
of  his  fellow-magician  ;  but  instead  of  a  man 
he  had  proposed  forming  a  woman,  and  he 
already  began  to  hope  for  the  success  of  his 
enterprise. 

The  saucepan  had  now  been  on  the  fire 
sixty-three  days,  sixty-three  nights,  three 


ZOE  ;     OR,    THE   METAMORPHOSIS.  25 

minutes,  and  three  seconds,  and  he  began 
to  anticipate  happy  results.  At  each  in- 
spection of  its  contents,  the  sorcerer  had 
been  satisfied  with  their  progress  ;  the  twen- 
ty-first day  he  lifted  the  pot  from  the  fire, 
and,  placing  it  on  the  ground,  pronounced 
the  following  words  : 

"Iladziun  a  Poun  !" 

' '  Hadziun  a  Poun  ! " 

"  Iladziun  a  Poun  !  " 

lie  was  filled  with  delight  to  see  a  jolly 
little  mouse  jump  from  the  saucepan  and  run 
around  the  room.  lie  caught  it  immediately, 
threw  it  back  into  the  pan,  and  put  on  fresh 
fire.  Several  days  afterward  he  essayed  a 
second  proof;  this  time  it  was  a  weasel. 

"  Good  ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  it  is  coming  ;  I 
am  making  great  progress.  In  ten  days  I 
shall  have  a  rabbit,  then  a  cat,  then  a  woman  ! 
Good,  good!"  and  he  rubbed  his  hands 
together  with  joy. 

Remember  that  he  was  a  sorcerer,  and 
that  he  had  only  power  to  create  a  wicked 
woman ;  otherwise,  ho  would  have  begun 


26  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

by  making  a  bee,  then  a  swallow,  then  a 
dove,  then  a  gazelle,  and  at  length  a  sweet 
young  girl.  That  is  what  a  good  man  would 
have  done. 

The  sorcerer  stirred  his  mixture  all  night, 
with  a  gold  spoon,  on  the  end  of  which  was 
a  silver  hand,  with  sparkling  little  rings  on 
the  fingers.  He  stirred  and  stirred,  until, 
exhausted  by  fatigue,  about  daybreak  he 
threw  himself  on  his  old  sofa  and  slept. 


CHAPTER    II. 

THE    LILAC    DRESS. 

j|HE  same  day,  at  the  same  hour,  a  little 
girl,  who  lived  in  the  next  house, 
awoke  from  sleep. 

"  Rosa,"  said  she  to  her  nurse,  "  it  will  be 
a  fine  day ;  I  do  not  want  to  put  on  my  old 
black  gown  ;  I  would  like  to  wear  that  pretty 
lilac  frock  my  aunt  has  given  me." 

"Miss  Zoe,"  answered  Rosalie,  "your 
lilac  frock  is  not  ironed  yet ;  I  only  washed 
it  yesterday." 

"  Well,  iron  it  then,"  replied  Zoe,  in  an 
imperious  tone. 

"  That  is  impossible,  miss  ;  there  is  not  a 
fire  in  any  part  of  the  house." 

27 


28  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

"Bah!"  cried  out  the  little  girl,  impa- 
tiently ;  "  you  always  have  good  reasons  for 
not  doing  what  you  are  told." 

With  these  words,  Zoe  got  up,  and  after 
a  few  moments,  went  down  stairs.  She  per- 
ceived a  fire  and  smoke  in  the  sorcerer's  great 
chimney,  and  he  had  left  the  door  of  the 
laboratory  open,  so  as  not  to  be  stifled  by 
the  great  quantity  of  burning  charcoal. 

Zoe  was  a  forward  little  girl  who  hesitated 
at  nothing,  when  she  wished  to  gratify  her 
caprices.  She  passed,  without  being  seen, 
the  wide  court  which  separated  her  from  the 
sorcerer's  abode,  and,  finding  herself  all 
alone,  she  entered  the  mysterious  labora- 
tory. 

At  the  aspect  of  the  motionless  old  man, 
she  recoiled  with  fear ;  for  he  looked  ex- 
tremely wicked,  although  tired  and  asleep. 
But  this  fear  was  soon  dissipated,  and  Zoe 
approached  the  furnace.  Her  desire  was  to 
obtain  a  few  coals  to  heat  an  iron  or  two ; 
and,  while  she  was  fearful  of  awaking  the 
sorcerer,  she  had,  at  the  same  time,  deter- 


ZOE  ;    OR,   THE   METAMORPHOSIS.  29 

mined  to  wear  her  lilac  frock.  She  scarcely 
dared  breathe,  so  frightened  was  she,  —  but 
her  lilac  frock,  her  lilac  frock, — she  must 
wear  it,  for  it  was  her  mamma's  birthday, 
and  some  of  her  little  friends  were  coming 
to  spend  the  day.  She  was  very  vain,  this 
little  Zoe,  and  she  had  often  been  told  that 
her  vanity  would  some  day  or  other  be  a 
cause  of  misfortune  to  her.  She  succeeded 
at  length  in  getting  some  red  coals  from  the 
fire  with  the  tongs,  and  was  about  to  steal 
softly  out,  when  she  saw  two  terrible  eyes 
looking  at  her  from  the  bottom  of  the  magic 
saucepan. 

Her  terror  was  so  great  that  she  uttered 
a  loud  cry,  and  the  tongs  dropped  from  her 
grasp.  At  the  same  instant,  the  sorcerer 
awoke. 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE   METAMORPHOSIS. 

jjNE  must  have  spent  some  years  on  a 
work,  or  an  idea,  to  comprehend  the 
importance  which  a  man  attaches  to  his 
labor,  a  painter  to  his  picture,  a  poet  to  his 
verses,  a  savant  to  a  discovery.  Children 
never  understand  this ;  they  attach  impor- 
tance to  trifles  only,  and  break  them  as  soon 
as  they  have  received  them.  However,  chil- 
dren who  have  been  well  brought  up  know 
better,  and  respect  that  of  which  they  are 
ignorant. 

Zoe  was  not  aware  that  she  had,  in  depriv- 
ing the  saucepan  of  the  requisite  heat,  de- 
stroyed the  labor  of  months  that  the  sorcerer 

30 


ZOE  ;    OR,    THE   METAMORPHOSIS.          31 

had  vainly  toiled  night  and  day  to  accom- 
plish results  now  impossible.  Imagine  her 
terror  and  the  despair  of  the  old  man.  He 
became  pale  with  anger ;  he  wept  with  rage 
—  the  rage  of  a  sorcerer  ;  the  tears  fell  upon 
his  white  beard,  and  he  wrung  his  hands 
with  grief.  He  could  not  speak,  but  he  re- 
peated in  his  mind  the  most  terrible  im- 
precations, the  most  powerful  maledictions 
against  the  poor  child  who  had  fallen  on  her 
knees  before  him,  uplifting  her  trembling 
hands. 

All  at  once,  raising  his  head,  and  as 
though  seized  with  an  inspiration  of  ven- 
geance, he  grasped  the  fatal  vessel  in  which 
she  had  seen  the  terrible  eyes,  and  violently 
threw  its  contents  in  Zoe's  face,  who  fell  to 
the  ground  in  a  paroxysm  of  terror  and  pain. 

The  sorcerer,  walking  around  her  pros- 
trate figure  several  times,  pronounced  the 
following  words  : 

"  Hadziun  a  Poun  !  " 

"  Hadziun  a  Poun!  " 

"Hadziun  a  Poun  I" 


32  A  BOOK  FOR  GIRLS. 

"  Hadziun  a  Poun  !  " 

And  Zoe  was  Zoe  no  longer ;  her  pretty 
little  hands  were  changed  into  paws  with 
long  claws ;  her  soft  blue  eyes,  into  big, 
ugly,  green  eyes ;  her  light,  silky  hair  into 
short  fur.  Poor  Zoe,  so  dainty,  so  proud  of 
her  beauty,  was  only  a  great  cat,  without 
grace  or  prettiness  of  any  kind. 

When  the  unfortunate  child  returned  to 
herself  and  began  to  understand  this  meta- 
morphosis, her  heart  grew  very  sad.  She 
wished  to  speak  in  the  childish  voice  which 
her  dear  mother  never  could  resist ;  but, 
alas  !  she  had  no  voice,  —  she  meawed,  but 
she  meaiced  falsely ;  for  the  sorcerer,  who 
had  never  before  made  a  cat,  had  not  given 
her  even  such  a  pleasant  voice  as  the  finest 
cats  possess,  and  her  sad  complaints  were 
without  sweetness. 

You  remember  the  last  trial  was  to  be  a 
cat,  before  arriving  at  a  woman,  and  this  cat 
did  not  give  great  promise  of  the  woman 
who  was  to  succeed  her ;  it  was  probable  she 
would  be  very  grossly  constructed,  and  that 


ZOE  ;    OR,    THE   METAMORPHOSIS.  33 

her  voice  would  be  quite  destitute  of  charms. 
Observing  all  this,  as  he  could  not  help 
doing,  and  comparing  her  wails  to  the  dis- 
cordant notes  of  a  broken  music-box,  the 
sorcerer  did  not  enjoy  hearing  the  cracked 
voice  that  did  him  so  little  honor.  While 
Zoe  complained,  she  heard  her  maid  in  the 
court-yard,  calling  her.  "Zoe,  Zoe,"  re- 
sounded on  all  sides,  and  the  poor  cat 
bounded  up  and  down  the  room  in  the  great- 
est anguish. 

"Ha!  ha!"  cried  the  wicked  sorcerer, 
with  a  demoniacal  laugh  :  "  hear  them  calling 
you,  my  little  cat;  your  mother  will  be  de- 
lighted to  see  you  in  your  new  clothes.  Ha, 
ha !  what  a  beautiful  costume  !  This  new 
dress  feels  a  little  strange  in  the  beginning ; 
but  you  will  be  well  used  to  it,  for  you  will 
never  be  rid  of  it  until  some  one  says,  *  Zoe, 
I  pardon  you!'  and  certes,  that  shall  never 
be  I."  With  these  words,  the  sorcerer  gave 
her  a  blow  with  his  foot,  which  sent  her  into 
the  court-yard,  where  she  lay  for  a  moment 
almost  stunned. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

EVERY  ONE  DOES  NOT  LOVE  CATS. 

[OE,  Zoe,  breakfast  is  ready  !  " 

"Miss  Zoe,  Madame  is  calling  you. 
Have  you  seen  Zoe,  M.  Pechor,"  said  the 
waiting-maid  to  the  porter. 

"  No,  Miss,  I  have  not  seen  her  to-day." 
"  Zoe,  Zoe,"  and  Zoe  ran  to  the  vestibule 
at  the  sound  of  her  name  ;  she  ventured  to 
enter  the  dining-room,  when  her  nurse  see- 
ing her,  gave  her  a  blow,  saying  : 

"  Ah,  what  a  sight ;  where  did  that  ugly 
cat  come  from  ?  Clear  out,  this  instant.  I 
do  not  like  cats  ;  there  is  nothing  I  hate  like 
a  cat.  Pusch  !  Pouah  !  Pouah  !  Clear  away." 
And  poor  Zoe  was  obliged  to  go  away. 

34 


ZOE  ;     OR,    THE    METAMORPHOSIS.  35 

As  she  sadly  descended  into  the  hall,  she 
met  her  little  cousin  carrying  a  large  basket 
of  confectioneries,  which  she  was  bringing  to 
share  with  her. 

"  Zoe,  Zoe,"  cried  the  little  girl,  "  come 
to  breakfast,  quick  ;  we  have  got  candy." 

Zoe,  forgetting  that  she  was  a  cat,  ap- 
proached her  cousin,  and  wished  to  take  the 
basket  from  her ;  but  the  little  girl  began 
to  scream  at  the  top  of  her  voice,  "  Mamma, 
mamma,  here  is  a  big  cat  trying  to  eat  my 
candies." 

The  unhappy  cat  was  forced  to  wander 
about  sadly,  very  sadly,  without  having 
anything  to  eat.  She  went  to  her  own  room, 
and  lay  down  on  the  bed,  hoping  for  security 
there,  at  least.  But  she  had  hardly  settled 
herself  when  her  nurse  entered.  She  car- 
ried in  her  hand  the  lilac  frock,  freshly 
ironed — the  fatal  robe  that  had  caused  so 
much  misery.  "Zoe,"  said  she,  "come, 
Zoe,  do  not  pout ;  come  and  dress  yourself; 
your  dress  is  ready,  come." 

Rosalie  sought  the  little  girl  behind  the 


36  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

door,  and  in  all  the  corners,  imagining  that 
she  had  hidden  herself ;  seeking  and  calling 
her  from  side  to  side,  she  threw  here  and 
there  various  things  that  lay  in  her  way  ;  then 
she  began  to  take  oft*  the  covering  to  make 
the  bed.  In  lifting  the  spread  she  saw  the 
cat,  at  which  discovery  she  grew  very  angry. 

"  You  are  here  yet,  are  you,  ugly  beast  1 " 
she  exclaimed.  "What  are  you  doing 
there?  Will  you  go  away!"  and  "pusch, 
pU8cktpiMsch"  began  once  more,  accompanied 
with  kicks,  and  blows  of  the  broom. 

Zoe,  terribly  frightened,  ran  away  as 
quickly  as  possible,  and,  fleeing  from  the 
awful  wrath  of  Rosalie,  she  threw  herself 
before  her  mother's  door,  and  awaited  her 
awaking  with  something  like  resignation. 
"  In  spite  of  this  dreadful  change,"  she  said 
to  herself,  "  mamma  will  certainly  know 
me ;  oh,  I  am  sure  she  will  recognize  me  ; 
she  will  understand  me  ;  she  will  hear  me 
although  I  cannot  speak,  if  I  can  only  be 
near  her.  She  loves  me  so  dearly,  she  will 
not  allow  them  to  harm  me." 


CHAPTER    V. 

A    SAD   BIRTHDAY. 

JHILE  Zoe  crouched,  trembling,  by  the 
door,  she  saw  her  two  little  cousins 
skipping  up  the  corridor,  beautifully  dressed, 
their  faces  beaming  with  joy.  When  they 
came  close  to  her  mamma's  chamber,  they 
walked  on  tip-toe,  each  holding  a  bouquet 
in  her  little  hand. 

"Auntie  is  not  awake  yet,"  said  one; 
"we  cannot  wish  her  a  happy  feast.  Where 
is  Zoe?  She  will  put  our  bouquets  in 
water." 

"  Miss  Zoe  is  in  her  room,"  replied  a  ser- 
vant who  was  passing,  ignorant  of  what  had 
transpired. 

37 


38  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

"Ah,  I  know,"  answered  the  elder  of 
the  two.  "  I  know.  She  is  arranging  her 
curls  ;  I  ought  to  know  that  she  will  be  very 
particular  about  her  dress  to-day.  I  have 
been  ready  since  eight  o'clock." 

With  these  words,  she  produced  a  pretty 
pair  of  mittens  which  she  had  knitted  for 
her  aunt.  Zoe  saw  all  these  things,  these 
presents,  the  bouquets,  and  her  poor  heart 
beat  sorrowfully.  On  her  side  it  was  not 
that  she  feared  having  nothing  to  give  her 
mamma ;  her  bouquet  and  souvenir  were 
ready  long  ago  —  but  to  be  obliged  to  pre- 
sent them  with  the  paws  of  a  cat ! 

At  this  moment  she  felt  very  unhappy, 
but  that  was  not  enough.  At  the  end  of  an 
hour,  her  mother  rang  the  bell,  and  when 
her  maid  answered  the  summons,  Rosalie 
ran  after  her  in  a  perspiration. 

"  If  Madame  asks  for  Miss  Zoe,"  said  she, 
"  sa}'  that  she  has  gone  with  me  to  buy  flow- 
ers. That  will  give  me  time  to  search  for 
her;  we  do  not  know  what  has  become  of 
her.  Ah  !  mon  Dieu  1  mon  Dleu  I "  she  ex- 


ZOE  ;     OR,    THE    METAMORPHOSIS.  39 

claimed;  "I  shall  die  if  anything  has  hap- 
pened to  her !  " 

Zoe,  miserable  at  seeing  her  nurse  weep- 
ing on  account  of  her  absence,  wished  to 
console  her,  and,  forgetting  that  she  could 
not  speak,  arose  and  advanced  towards 
her ;  but  Rosalie  repulsed  her,  this  time, 
however,  without  blows ;  for  the  poor  girl 
was  so  uneasy  that  she  had  not  time  to  be 
cross. 

The  alarm  soon  spread  throughout  the 
household,  and  no  one  was  able  to  hide  the 
anxiety  that  manifested  itself.  Madame 
Epernay,  not  seeing  her  daughter  return, 
and  noticing  the  mysterious  actions  and 
evasive  answers  of  the  servants,  began  to 
suspect  that  something  was  wrong.  She 
hastened  to  the  chamber  of  her  daughter, 
imagining  she  was  ill,  and  that  they  were 
endeavoring  to  hide  it  from  her. 

When  Zoe  saw  her  mother  pass,  her  heart 
beat  quickly,  she  ran  after  her,  hoping  she 
would  be  recognized,  but  a  saucy  spaniel 
who  never  quitted  Madame  Epernay's  side, 


40  A   BOOK   FOR    GIRLS. 

and  not  knowing  his  young  mistress  under 
her  disguise,  began  to  bark  at  her,  and  soon 
had  all  the  dogs  in  the  house  in  his  wake. 
There  was  nothing  left  for  Zoe  but  flight, 
and  in  a  moment  she  had  jumped  through  a 
window  and  was  climbing  the  high  and  slip- 
pery roof. 

They  awaited  the  return  of  Rosalie  with 
anxiety ;  but  she,  unable  to  find  the  little 
girl,  did  not  come  back. 

Madame  Epernay  called  her  daughter  in 
an  imploring  voice.  "Come,  my  child," 
she  cried;  "I  shall  not  scold  you."  Then 
she  visited  every  room  in  the  house,  the 
court-yard,  the  garden ;  she  questioned 
every  one  ;  she,  ordinarily  so  sweet,  became 
impatient  and  violent  through  the  excess  of 
her  uneasiness  ;  she  scolded  all  the  servants, 
sent  them  out  to  look  for  the  child,  and  re- 
proached the  porter  for  not  having  detained 
her.  Then  she  returned  to  her  room  and 
threw  herself  on  the  bed  in  an  agony  of 
grief. 

As  the  day  advanced,  her  sorrow  changed 


ZOE  ;     OR,    THE   METAMORPHOSIS.  41 

into  horrible  despair.  She  had  sent  to  all 
her  friends  and  relatives,  to  the  police,  and 
all  through  the  neighborhood,  but  no  one  had 
heard  news  of  Zoe.  All  at  once  the  idea 
occurred  to  her  that  Zoe  had  been  killed  by 
some  frightful  accident,  and  then  she  re- 
doubled her  tears ;  then  she  believed  that 
the  little  girl  was  hiding  somewhere  and  she 
would  exclaim,  "  My  child,  my  child,  tell 
me  the  truth  what  has  become  of  you  !  Do 
not  hide  from  me  any  longer.  I  shall  not 
scold  you,  my  dear  little  girl." 

Zoe  was  still  more  to  be  pitied,  for  she 
heard  her  mother's  cries,  and  was  unable  to 
answer,  "  I  am  here."  In  the  excess  of  her 
sorrow,  she  imagined  that  the  sorcerer  might 
restore  her  to  her  primitive  form,  but  he  had 
disappeared,  and  left  no  trace  behind  him. 
So  she  remained  all  night  in  the  passage- 
way facing  the  windows  of  her  mother's 
apartment,  not  daring  to  enter  through  fear 
of  the  vigilant  spaniel  who  lay  on  the  rug 
near  the  door.  She  thought  of  writing  to 
her  mother,  but  she  had  neither  pen,  ink, 


42  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

nor  paper,  and  even  if  she  had,  who  would 
read,  or  reading  believe,  "  My  dear  mamma, 
do  not  cry,  I  am  a  cat." 


more 
seen. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    LETTER. 

S  soon  as  the  day  dawned,  Zoe,  fearing 
to  re-enter  the  house,  where  she  would 
have,  at  least,  the  sad  satisfaction  of  being 
near  her  mother,  climbed  to  the  roof  once 
where  she  might  see  without  being 
As  she  sat  sad  and  quiet,  she  heard 
the  noise  of  an  opening  window  in  the  neigh- 
boring house,  and,  looking  downward  saw 
the  interior  of  a  pretty  room.  Books  were 
scattered  here  and  there  on  the  different 
tables.  Flowers  stood  in  a  pretty  vase  on 
the  mantel,  and  a  writing  desk,  small  and 
compact,  lay  on  the  little  table  near  the  win- 
dow. This  attracted  Zoe,  who  thought  of 
the  letter  she  wished  to  write,  and  she  re- 

43 


44  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

solved  to  enter  the  apartment.  She  sprang 
to  the  window  sill,  and  seeing  no  one  near, 
bravely  entered  the  room.  The  disturbance 
caused  a  piece  of  bread,  lying  on  an  easel 
near  the  door,  to  fall  on  the  floor.  Zoe 
eagerly  seized  it,  black  and  dirty  though  it 
was  from  having  been  used  to  erase  pencil 
marks  from  the  picture  in  process  of  com- 
pletion ;  but  she  had  had  nothing  to  eat  since 
evening,  and  it  soon  disappeared. 

After  this  splendid  repast  she  prepared  to 
write  her  letter ;  but  the  difficulty  lay  in 
tracing  characters  that  would  be  legible. 

After  having  made  several  curious  lines, 
Zoe  endeavored  to  read  them,  but  alas  !  she 
could  not.  Zigzags  and  blots  there  were  in 
plenty,  profiles  of  noses,  and  scratches,  but 
no  letters  —  it  was  just  what  any  cat  would 
have  written,  nothing  more.  Impatient  at 
seeing  that  she  could  accomplish  nothing, 
she  threw  away  her  pen,  and  dipped  her  paw 
in  the  inkstand,  trying  to  write  with  her 
nails ;  but  this  was  another  failure ;  the 
characters  were  more  illegible  than  before. 


ZOE  ;    OR,    THE   METAMORPHOSIS.          45 

She  had  already  filled  with  ink  all  the 
papers  on  the  table,  the  fauteuil,  and  on  two 
or  three  books,  when  the  occupant  of  the 
room  entered.'  This  was  a  young  girl,  of 
about  sixteen  years,  who  seemed  surprised 
to  find  a  large  cat  which  she  had  never  before 
seen,  writing  at  her  desk. 

Far  from  being  displeased,  Eglantine  (the 
young  lady  was  so  called)  appeared  charmed 
to  see  so  wise  a  cat,  and  covered  Zoe  with 
caresses,  giving  her  bon-bons  and  milk,  and 
the  poor  child  under  her  strange  guise  was 
very  grateful. 

Zoe  also  remembered  the  words  of  the 
sorcerer,  which  in  her  first  despair  she  had 
forgotten.  "Thou  shalt  never  recover  thy 
own  shape  until  some  one  shall  say,  "Zoe, 
I  pardon  thee  !  " — and  then,  the  poor  cat, 
so  well  treated,  took  courage,  and  began  to 
hope  that  she  would  one  day  hear  Eglantine, 
whom  she  had  already  begun  to  love,  pro- 
nounce the  words,  "  Zoe,  I  pardon  thee." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

TRIALS. 

|N  the  evening,  Zoe  returned  to  her 
mother's  house  to  hear  the  news,  but 
Madame  Epernay  had  gone  away.  The 
physicians,  fearful  of  her  reason,  had  ordered 
her  departure  from  the  scene  of  such  cruel 
memories,  and  had  advised  a  voyage  to 
Italy,  lest  she  should  succumb  to  the  force 
of  her  grief. 

Zoe  was  very  sad  at  the  absence  of  her 
mother,  and  the  deprivation  of  even  seeing 
her  at  a  distance  threw  her  into  profound 
melancholy.  She  knew  that  her  mother 
would  long  remain  inconsolable  ;  but  the  idea 
that  those  surrounding  her  would  endeavor 

46 


ZOE  ;    OR,    THE   METAMORPHOSIS.          47 

to  efface  the  memory  of  her  child,  tormented 
her.  Zoe  passed  the  night  in  the  court-yard. 
It  was  very  cold  ;  the  stable  would  have  been 
much  warmer,  but  she  was  afraid  of  the  horses. 

As  soon  as  Eglantine  re-opened  the  win- 
dow of  her  room,  Zoe  returned  to  her.  The 
young  girl  received  her  even  more  joyfully 
than  on  the  preceding  day,  for  she  was  now 
an  old  friend. 

"  Minette,"  said  she,  "  come  here."  Zoe 
did  not  wish  to  be  called  by  this  name,  and 
seemed  unhappy  because  it  had  been  given 
to  her. 

"  Mignonne,"  said  Eglantine,  but  Zoe  did 
not  stir. 

"I  must  give  you  a  name,  pussie,"  said 
Eglantine,  "  since  you  are  going  to  be  mine, 
and  you  cannot  tell  me  what  your  name  is." 

At  these  words,  a  bright  idea  entered  Zoe's 
brain.  She  jumped  at  a  bound  through  the 
window,  ran  over  the  roofs  till  she  came  to 
her  own  dwelling,  and  gliding  through  the 
halls,  came  at  last  to  the  door  of  her  room. 
Everything  was  in  disorder  ;  playthings  and 


A    BOOK    FOR   GIRLS. 


dresses  lay  promiscuously  on  the  floor,  and 
for  a  moment  she  seemed  at  a  loss.  A  pile 
of  her  little  handkerchiefs  lay  on  the  bureau  ; 
she  seized  one  adroitly  in  her  mouth,  and 
ran  swiftly  away.  Zoe  had  embroidered  her 
name  in  one  of  the  corners,  and  returning 
to  Eglantine,  she  showed  her  with  her  paw 
the  three  letters  which  composed  it.  "  Zoe," 
said  Eglantine  aloud,  and  the  cat  jumped  on 
her  knees,  thinking  thereby  to  fix  her  atten- 
tion. 

In  vain  did  her  young  mistress  essay  to 
call  her  by  other  names  ;  the  cat  persisted  in 
showing  her  the  embroidery  on  the  handker- 
chief;  and  Eglantine,  seeing  she  wished  to 
be  called  Zoe,  supposed  some  one  had  given 
this  name  to  her,  and  made  up  her  mind  to 
let  her  keep  it. 

Usually  it  is  the  mistress  who  educates  the 
cat ;  but  here  it  was  the  cat  telling  the  mis- 
tress what  she  wished  to  be  called.  This 
seemed  very  singular ;  but  Eglantine  knew 
that  domestic  animals  are  intelligent,  and  was 
not  greatly  astonished. 


ZOE  ;     OR,    THE   METAMORPHOSIS.  49 

Thus  was  Zoe  established  in  the  house 
with  her  own  veritable  name  ;  the  greatest 
difficulty  was  over;  all  she  thought  of  now 
was  to  make  some  one  say,  "I  pardon  you,' 
and  the  least  little  fault  might  render  this 
possible. 

But  to  obtain  the  pardon  of  her  mistress  it 
was  necessary  first  to  vex  her,  and  that  was 
not  so  easily  managed,  all  at  once. 

Some  one  had  given  Eglantine  a  large  box 
of  bon-bons  ;  Zoe  saw  it,  and  made  haste  to 
eat  all  it  contained,  and  joyously  awaited  the 
return  of  her  mistress  hoping  that  she  would 
scold  her  severely. 

But  her  hope  was  short  lived ;  Eglantine 
was  no  gourmande.  She  saw  that  Zoe  had 
eaten  the  bonbons,  and  instead  of  being 
angry,  she  said,  — 

' '  That  was  right,  Zoe ;  you  knew  I  was 
saving  them  for  you." 

Zoe  was  disappointed  by  this  amiability, 
and  she  resolved  to  adopt  some  other  plan. 

Eglantine  designed  beautifully.  For  sev- 
eral days  she  had  been  working  at  a  land- 


50  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

scape,  which  she  wished  to  show  to  her  father. 
The  picture  was  nearly  finished ;  it  needed 
but  a  few  touches  of  the  pencil  to  be  entirely 
completed.  Zoe,  seeing  that  her  mistress 
was  much  interested  in  the  drawing,  thought 
that  if  she  should  destroy  it,  Eglantine  would 
be  very  angry.  Consequently,  one  day  when 
the  young  lady  had  gone  out,  Zoe  pulled  it 
from  the  easel,  tore  it  in  pieces,  and  covered 
the  fragments  with  pencil  marks,  so  as  to 
destroy  all  vestige  of  the  houses,  trees  and 
flowers  that  had  made  it  so  pretty  a  picture. 

After  this  fine  feat,  she  hid  under  the  table, 
there  to  await  the  anger  of  her  mistress. 

Eglantine  returned  a  few  moments  after, 
when  she  saw  the  floor  strewn  with  bits  of 
paper.  She  picked  up  a  fragment,  only  to 
learn  that  her  picture  had  been  torn  into 
pieces.  But  instead  of  flying  into  a  fury,  as 
Zoe  had  expected,  she  began  to  laugh. 

"If  my  father  saw  this,"  she  said,  "how 
he  would  tease  me  !  '  It  serves  you  right,' 
he  would  say, '  for  keeping  cats  around  you.'" 

With  these  words  she  threw  the  pieces  into 


ZOE  ;     OR,    THE    METAMORPHOSIS.  51 

the  fire,  and  immediately  set  to  work  to  be- 
gin another  picture.  Meanwhile,  Zoe  came 
bravely  from  her  hiding-place,  expecting 
first  to  receive  a  scolding,  and  then  to  hear, 
"  Zoe,  I  pardon  you ;"  but  Eglantine  did  not 
scold. 

<l  Hide  yourself  quickly,  Zoe,"  she  said 
laughingly;  "my  father  is  coming,  and  he 
does  not  like  cats.  And  Zoe  took  herself 
away,  sad  and  discouraged. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

ANOTHER   TRIAL. 

JEVERAL  days  after,  hope  returned  to 
her  heart.  Entering  Eglantine's  room, 
Zoe  perceived  a  beautiful  wreath  of  roses  that 
had  just  been  brought  there.  The  maid  had 
been  imprudent  enough  to  lay  them  on  the 
foot  of  the  bed,  while  the  hair-dresser  ar- 
ranged Eglantine's  braids,  and  she,  seated  at 
her  toilet,  could  not  see  what  passed  behind 
her.  Zoe  saw  that  the  moment  was  favor- 
able ;  her  mistress  was  going  to  a  grand  ball, 
and  the  wreath  of  roses  was  a  very  important 
affair ;  therefore  it  was  necessary  to  destroy 
it  without  hesitation.  If  Eglantine  had  en- 
dured patiently  the  loss  of  the  bon-bons,  and 
the  destruction  of  her  picture,  she  could  not 

52 


ZOE  ;    OR,    THE   METAMORPHOSIS.          53 

suffer  the  immolation  of  her  garland.  While 
the  hair-dresser  chatted  volubly  about  the 
various  coiffurps  he  had  arranged  that  day, 
Zoe  stretched  herself  upon  the  flowers  in 
such  a  manner  that  not  a  rose  was  left  with 
out  being  crushed  and  broken.  When  the 
hair-dresser  turned  to  place  the  wreath  on 
Eglantine's  head,  what  was  his  horror  to  find 
it  utterly  spoiled  and  useless. 

"Miss  Eglantine,"  he  exclaimed;  "see 
what  this  miserable  cat  has  done  !  It  will 
be  impossible  for  you  to  wear  these  flowers  ;  " 
and  he  held  them  up  to  her  view. 

Eglantine  was  not  vain ;  she  was  right, 
she  was  so  beautiful.  The  sight  of  the  poor 
flowers  instead  of  angering  her  made  her 
laugh. 

« '  I  see  that  I  shall  have  to  be  contented 
without  a  wreath  to-day, "  she  answered. 
"  Fannie  give  me  that  spray  of  lilacs  I  wore 
the  other  day  ;  all  flowers  look  equally  well 
with  a  white  crape  dress.  Pussy  you  are 
fond  of  roses  it  seems." 

At  these  words,  Zoe  ran  out  of  the  room 


54  A  BOOK  FOR  GIRLS. 

in  a  state  of  despair.  She  was  irritated  be- 
yond her  patience.  "What !  "  thought  she, 
"not  a  spark  of  vanity  !  At  the  destruction 
of  her  wreath,  which  would  have  vexed  any 
other  lady,  she  is  not  a  particle  ill-humored." 
Zoe  reproached  Eglantine  for  her  sweet- 
ness as  though  it  had  been  a  crime  ;  she 
accused  her  of  carelessness  ;  she  could  not 
pardon  a  good  disposition  which  deranged 
all  her  projects,  destroyed  all  her  hopes. 
Thus  do  we  often,  among  our  friends,  take  a 
good  quality  for  a  fault,  because  it  annoys  us. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

RESENTMENT. 

JOE  passed  a  month  in  sadness  and  dis- 
couragement. She  was  distressed  at 
being  a  cat,  and  at  not  seeing  her  mother ;  she 
imagined  that  Madame  Epernay  had  adopted 
one  of  her  cousins,  and  this  thought  caused 
her  to  weep  with  jealousy.  She  despaired 
of  vexing  her  mistress,  and  could  not  decide 
on  any  means  by  which  to  excite  her  dis- 
pleasure. She  wished  to  return  to  her  origi- 
nal form,  but,  at  the  same  time,  she  did  not 
like  to  be  ungrateful  by  offending  Eglantine 
in  any  serious  matter. 

Eglantine  had  a  little  brother,  into  whose 
room  the  cat  was  never  allowed  to  enter. 

55 


56  A   BOOK  FOR   GIRLS. 

The  boy  was  afraid  of  cats,  and  the  ser- 
vants had  been  forbidden  to  permit  them  to 
approach  him.  Notwithstanding  their  vigi- 
lance Zoe  found  means  to  introduce  herself 
into  the  room,  and  jumping  into  the  cradle, 
gave  the  child,  in  play,  a  blow  with  her  paw. 

But  now  something  happened  which  she 
had  not  foreseen.  She  had  scratched  the 
child,  involuntarily,  and  his  eyelid  began  to 
bleed,  while  he  cried  out  most  piteously  for 
help.  Eglantine  ran  into  the  room.  Oh, 
this  time  she  was  angry  !  She  pushed  Zoe 
away  with  great  indignation,  and  the  cat  saw 
that  she  was  not  likely  soon  to  be  pardoned 
for  having  shown  such  cruelty. 

After  this  circumstance  Zoe  did  not  dare 
to  return  to  her  mistress.  She  lived  on  the 
roof,  and  passed  entire  nights  in  complain- 
ing. She  saw  no  chance  of  being  restored 
to  Eglantine's  good  graces.  She  knew  that 
her  little  brother  was  always  sick ;  that  his 
eye  was  not  healed  ;  and,  above  all,  she  knew 
that  Eglantine  loved  her  no  longer. 

One   night,    sadder   than    ever,    she   was 


ZOE;     OR,    THE    METAMORPHOSIS.  57 

seated  on  a  gutter  reflecting  on  the  cruelty 
of  her  fate  ;  all  at  once  she  saw  a  bright  light 
in  the  little  -boy's  room.  A  lamp  near  the 
bed  had  ignitecl  the  curtains ;  every  one  was 
at  dinner,  and  no  one  knew  of  the  danger. 

Zoe  saw  the  peril ;  she  rushed  to  the  win- 
dow, breaking  a  pane  at  the  risk  of  cutting 
her  feet,  and  then  seizing  a  little  bell  from 
the  table,  she  rang  it  so  loudly  that  in  an 
instant  all  the  servants  were  on  the  spot. 
Eglantine  was  in  the  room  as  soon  as  they ; 
she  threw  he'rself  into  the  flames,  and  lifted 
her  little  brother  in  her  arms,  in  her  emotion 
manifesting  no  astonishment  at  seeing  a  cat 
ringing  a  bell.  The  servants  were  not  so 
indifferent.  They  speedily  extinguished  the 
fire ;  then  the  danger  past,  and  the  poor 
child  reassured,  they  burst  forth  into  excla- 
mations of  wonder  at  the  manner  in  which 
he  had  been  saved. 

Eglantine,  hearing  their  enthusiasm,  rushed 
to  thank  the  cat  which  had  saved  her  broth- 
er's life. 

But  Zoe,  who  feared   the   resentment  of 


58  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

her  mistress,  dared  not  to  approach  her,  and 
as  soon  as  the  child  was  out  of  danger,  she 
climbed  back  to  her  gutter.  However,  she 
did  not  remain  there  long,  for  she  heard  her 
name  called  on  all  sides.  "  Zoe,  Zoe,"  said 
Eglantine  in  a  sweet  and  beseeching  voice, 
and  Zoe  slowly  descended  from  the  gutter, 
looking  about  her  as  she  advanced.  Tim- 
idly she  entered  her  mistress's  apartment. 
"Come  here,  Zoe,"  said  Eglantine,  smiling, 
and  reaching  out  her  hand ;  but  Zoe  ran  to 
hide  under  the  table. 

"  I  am  not  angry  with  you,  my  pretty 
little  cat,"  said  Eglantine.  "If  you  did 
scratch  Frederic  the  other  day,  you  have 
saved  his  life  to-night ;  come  here,  do  not 
hide  yourself." 

But  Zoe  did  not  venture  from  her 
retreat ;  she  waited,  she  hoped  for  the 
magic  words  that  would  put  an  end  to  her 
troubles. 

Then,  Eglantine,  becoming  more  importu- 
nate, approached  the  table.  "  Come,  then, 
little  one,"  she  said,  in  a  caressing  voice, 


ZOE  ;     OR,    THE    METAMORPHOSIS.  59 

' '  do  not  be  afraid  of  a  scolding ;  I  am  not 
angry  ;   Zoe,  I  par  don  you" 

She  had  hardly  pronounced  these  words 
when  the  prediction  of  the  sorcerer  was  ac- 
complished ;  Zoe  resumed  her  proper  shape  ; 
she  was  a  little  girl  again. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE    RESTORATION. 

JOTJ  may  imagine  Eglantine's  surprise 
at  seeing  a  pretty  little  girl  under  the 
table,  instead  of  the  great  ugly  cat,  to  which 
she  had  been  speaking.  Zoe  threw  herself 
into  her  arms. 

"  Take  me  back  to  my  mother  !  "  she  ex- 
claimed, "  she  will  be  so  glad  to  see  me." 

Eglantine,  who  was  a  very  sensible  girl, 
comprehended  immediately  Zoe's  desire  to 
be  restored  to  her  mother ;  but  she  wished, 
before  taking  her  home,  to  prepare  Madame 
Epernay ;  fearing  that  after  so  great  a  sor- 
row, the  sudden  joy  might  be  fatal  to  her. 

Madame  Epernay  had  returned  to  Paris  a 
few  days  previous. 

60 


ZOE  ;     OR,    THE    METAMORPHOSIS.  61 

This  good  mother  was  very  ill  ;  six 
months  had  elapsed  since  the  loss  of  her 
child,  and  she  had  never  ceased  to  weep  for 
her.  Zoe  was  •  impatient  to  return  to  her, 
and  it  required  all  the  art  in  the  world  to 
hinder  her  from  running  to  embrace  her. 
She  could  not  believe  that  the  pleasure  of 
finding  her  little  girl  might  be  dangerous  to 
her  ;  children  never  see  any  danger  in  happi- 
ness. 

Eglantine,  pitying  her  impatience,  went  in 
person  to  Madame  Epernay,  inventing  some 
fable  to  herself  with  which  to  prepare  the 
mind  of  the  unhappy  mother  for  this  great 


"  Madame,"  said  she,  timidly  approaching 
the  lady,  whom  she  found  in  tears,  and  sur- 
rounded by  objects  which  recalled  her  child, 
"  pardon  me,  if  I  awake  in  j'our  heart  a  sor- 
rowful and  bitter  memory." 

"  Speak,  madamoiselle,  if  it  is  of  Zoe,  do 
not  fear  to  sadden  me  further  by  talking  of 
her  —  for  I  think  of  her  always." 

'  '  Have  you  never  heard  anything  of  her 


62  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

since  the  day  she  so  mysteriously  disap- 
peared ?  Have  you  no  hope  ?  " 

' '  Alas  !  "  responded  the  weeping  mother. 
"  Alas  !  No.  But  your  eyes  sparkle,  do  not 
deceive  me  —  oh  !  have  you  heard  —  do  you 
know  —  can  you  tell  me  anything?" 

"I  may  be  mistaken,"  continued  Eglan- 
tine, composing  as  she  went  along,  her  char- 
itable fable  ;  "  I  have  heard  mention  made  of 
a  child  of  the  same  age  as  yours,  who  was 
stolen  by  gypsies  six  months  ago." 

"  My  poor  Zoe  I  it  is  she,  she  is  living  !  " 
cried  Madame  Epernay  in  a  delirium  of 
hope. 

"  It  may  be  that  it  is  not  she  1 "  Eglantine 
replied  ;  "  I  have  not  seen  the  child  of  whom 
I  speak,  but  I  can  see  it,  and  I  am  not  sure 
that  it  is  yours;  but,  madame,  if  you  will 
lend  or  show  me  a  portrait  of  your  little  girl, 
I  may  be  able." 

"There  is  her  portrait !"  interrupted  Ma- 
dame Epernay  ;  "  it  resembles  her,  although 
not  nearly  so  pretty  as  my  little  Zoe."  With 
these  words  she  detached  a  locket  from  her 


ZOE  ;     OR,    THE   METAMORPHOSIS.  63 

watch  chain,  and  gave  it  to  Eglantine.  "  Oh, 
my  God!"  she  cried,  "if  I  could  but  find 
her." 

Eglantine  took  her  departure,  promising 
to  return  in  a  few  hours.  That  evening 
about  nine  o'clock,  Madame  Epernay  saw 
Eglantine  tripping  through  the  corridor  to 
her  apartment.  The  young  girl  appeared  so 
joyous  that  the  lady  was  prepared  for  good 
news. 

"I  have  great  hope,  madame,"  said  Eglan- 
tine ;  "I  have  not  seen  the  child,  but  my 
maid,  who  told  me  the  story,  has  ;  she  is  fair, 
very  fair,  and  about  eight  years  of  age." 

"  So  is  my  daughter." 

"  She  is  named  Aglac,  or  Zoe  ;  my  maid 
does  not  remember  which  ;  but  she  remarked 
that  the  child  had  large  blue  eyes,  with  long 
brown  lashes,  and  very  light  curls." 

"It  is  she;  it  is  she;  oh,  where  can  I 
see  her  ?  " 

"Be  careful,  madame;  the  gypsies  will 
instantly  leave  Paris  if  they  hear  we  suspect 
them  ;  to-morrow  "  — 


64  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

' '  To-morrow — to-morrow  !  I  cannot  wait 
till  to-morrow.  Bring  her  to  me  ;  let  me  go 
to  her.  She  is  mine  ;  she  is  mine  ! " 

Eglantine  had  not  the  courage  to  pursue 
the  deception  further ;  this  joy,  this  impa- 
tience made  her  tremble. 

"  Speak,"  cried  Madame  Epernay  ;  "  why 
may  I  not  see  her  to-day  ?  " 

' '  Because  you  are  too  weak  for  so  much 
joy,"  replied  Eglantine. 

"No,  no!"  exclaimed  the  poor  mother, 
"happiness gives  me  strength  ;  I  can  see  my 
child  without  weeping.  Bring  her  to  me, 
bring  her  to  me  !  " 

They  heard  a  noise  in  the  adjoining  cham- 
ber. 

"  I  see,"  cried  Madame  Epernay.  "  It  is 
she  !  You  have  brought  her  !  Zoe  !  Zoe  ! 
my  child  !  my  child  !  " 

"  Mamma,"  replied  a  dear  familiar  voice, 
"it  is  I ;  I  am  coming." 

And  Zoe  lay  weeping  upon  her  mother's 
bosom. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

flOT   A   DREAM. 

JOE,  Zoe ; "  cried  Rosalie,  opening  the 
shutters  to  admit  the  morning  sun, 
which  streamed  in  brightly  on  the  little  bed, 
with  its  pretty  blue  silk  covers  and  lace  pil- 
lows. "Zoe,  get  up  quickly;  it  is  eight 
o'clock,  and  your  cousins  are  here.  Mamma 
will  be  dressed  in  a  little  while,  and  what 
will  she  think  if  her  little  girl  is  not  ready 
to  congratulate  her  on  her  birthday  morn- 
ing." 

Zoe  moved  uneasily  on  her  pillow,  but 
made  no  effort  to  rise. 

"What!  you  are  not  getting  up,"  con- 
tinued Rosalie,  moving  about  the  chamber 

65 


G6  A    BOOK   FOR    GIRLS. 

as  she  spoke.  "I  called  you  at  five,  as 
you  bade  me,  and  the  early  awaking  made 
you  cross,  I  suppose,  for  you  scolded  me 
about  your  lilac  dress,  and  fell  asleep  again 
while  I  was  ironing  it.  Here  it  is  now,  fresh 
and  pretty  as  ever,  and  here  are  your  new 
pink  ribbons." 

Zoe  sat  up  in  bed  and  rubbed  her  eyes. 
"Is  that  you,  Rosalie,"  she  said  wonder- 
ingly.  "You  did  not  run  away,  then?" 

"Run  away!  No.  Why  should  I  run 
away?  And  on  your  dear  mamma's  birth- 
day. You  are  not  awake  yet." 

"Is  it  mamma's  birthday,  Rosalie?  Are 
you  not  joking  ?  " 

"  Joking?  Is  the  child  crazy?  You  have 
slept  your  senses  away.  To  be  sure  I  am 
not  joking.  Anna  and  Delphine  are  hers 
with  their  pretty  presents  —  and  see  your 
lilac  dress  at  the  foot  of  the  bed." 

"And  —  and  —  I  have  not  been  a  cat," 
said  Zoe,  timidly,  looking  about  her,  and 
seeing  that  everything  was  familiar  and  un- 
changed. 


ZOE  ;     OR,    THE    METAMORPHOSIS.  67 

"A  cat!"  exclaimed  Rosalie.  "  Mon 
Dieu  !  the  child  is  dreaming,"  and  very  much 
alarmed,  she  lifted  the  little  girl  in  her  arms, 
and  stood  her  upon  a  stool  in  front  of  the 
mirror. 

"  Truly  you  have  not  been  a  cat,  and  you 
are  not  a  cat  now.  Look  at  yourself,  you 
are  my  own  little  Zoe,  and  you  are  going 
to  be  dressed  immediately." 

But  Zoe  shook  her  head,  and  went  to  the 
window  overlooking  the  court-yard.  From 
a  tall,  narrow  chimney  opposite  she  saw 
smoke  rising  in  thick  volumes. 

"  What  place  is  that  Rosalie  ?  "  she  asked, 
gravely. 

"  That  is  where  old  Mainton,  the  chemist 
lives." 

"  Does  . chemist  mean  sorcerer,  Rosalie? 
And  do  chemists  change  little  girls  into 
cats  ?  " 

Rosalie  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter.  "  I 
see  it  now,"  she  said.  "You  have  been 
dreaming.  Do  you  not  remember,  last  night, 
after  I  had  put  out  the  light  and  tucked  you 


68  A    BOOK    FOR   GIRLS. 

in,  as  I  sat  near  the  window,  I  said  that 
chimney  made  me  think  of  a  magazine  fur- 
nace, and  the  old  man  Mainton  reminded 
me  of  a  sorcerer  ?  "  . 

"  And  I  asked  you  to  tell  me  something 
about  sorcerers,"  said  Zoe,  eagerly. 

"  Yes,  and  I  did  a  very  foolish  thing  when 
I  told  you  the  story  of  '  Hadziun  a  Poun.' 
It  gave  you  a  bad  dream." 

Zoe  heaved  a  deep  sigh. 

"And  so  I  have  not  been  a  cat,  —  I 
dreamed  it,  I  suppose.  And  Eglantine, —  do 
you  know  a  young  lady  called  Eglantine, 
who  lives  just  over  there  ?"  pointing  with  her 
finger  in  the  direction  of  a  tall,  handsome 
house,  whose  courtyard  met  their  own. 

"That  is  a  dream,  too,  madamoiselle. 
Madame  de  La  Motte  lives  there,  all  alone, 
with  her  cats  and  dogs.  She  is  a  very  old 
lady.  There  is  no  one  called  Eglantine  in 
that  house." 

Zoe  was  silent  for  a  few  moments.  Slowly 
her  thoughts  shaped  themselves  into  the 
truth.  She  had  fallen  asleep  during  the 


ZOE  ;     OR,    THE    METAMORPHOSIS.  69 

recital  of  Rosalie's  story  of  a  sorcerer,  and 
had  dreamed  of  the  magician  all  night. 
Awakened  very  early  as  she  had  been,  she 
had  gone  to  sleep  again  when  Rosalie  left 
the  room  to  iron  her  dress.  And  then  she 
had  dreamed  that  terrible  dream. 

Suddenly  she  threw  her  arms  around  Ro- 
salie's neck. 

"Oh,  Rosalie,  Rosalie!"  she  cried  with 
tears  in  her  eyes  and  in  her  voice.  "  I  will 
never  be  naughty  again,  never.  Quick, 
take  me  to  mamma,  I  feel  so  strange  I  can- 
not see  her  soon  enough." 

Madame  Epernay  could  not  understand 
the  unusual  warmth  of  her  little  girl's 
caresses  that  morning,  for  she  was  always 
very  affectionate  —  neither  could  she  com- 
prehend why  she  never  left  her  side  that 
day,  but  followed  her  like  one  who  fears  to 
lose  a  treasure.  But  that  night,  seated  be- 
side her  bed,  while  she  recited  the  history 
of  her  strange  dream,  the  fond  mother  did 
not  wonder  at  the  redoubled  affection  that 
had  shown  its  ardor  after  such  a  terrible 


70 


A   BOOK   FOR   GIRL?. 


experience  ;  and  the  brown  lashes  had  long 
closed  over  Zoe's  blue  eyes  before  sli3 
pressed  her  last  kiss  on  the  pure  white 
forehead,  and  left  her  to  her  guardian 
angel. 


A  WHOLESOME  LESSON. 


CHAPTER   I. 
THE  CHILDREN'S  PARTY. 

|LICE  Morris  was  a  little  girl,  with 
many  good  qualities ;  but  she  had  a 
fault  that  had  grown  to  be  so  common,  and 
made  her  at  times  so  disagreeable,  that  one 
could  not  listen  to  her  without  impatience. 
She  was  so  given  to  exaggeration,  that  to 
hear  her  tell  a  story,  was  enough  to  cause 
laughter  and  derision.  She  lived  in  New 
York,  and,  as  an  instance  of  her  exaggera- 

71 


72  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

tion,  she  would  say  :  "  I  could  go  from  here 
to  New  Orleans  without  sleeping."  Or,  "It 
is  almost  thirteen  thousand  miles  from  here 
to  New  Orleans." 

"To-morrow  morning,"  she  would  an- 
nounce, "I  shall  get  up  very  early,  and 
write  twelve  French  verbs  before  breakfast," 

Her  father,  tired  and  ashamed  of  this 
ridiculous  fault,  resolved  to  correct  her. 
One  day  she  exclaimed  in  her  ordinary  man- 
ner:  "Oh!  1  love  dancing;  I  could  dance 
three  days  and  three  nights  without  stop- 
ping, and  without  being  in  the  least  tired." 
Her  father,  wishing  to  take  her  at  her  word, 
gave  orders  that  preparation  should  be  made 
for  a  grand  party. 

Alice,  enchanted  with  this  prospect, 
passed  the  days  which  preceded  it  in  prac- 
tising her  steps  that  she  might  be  in  com- 
plete readiness  when  the  time  came.  The 
day  soon  arrived. 

At  noon,  her  maid  came  into  her  room, 
bringing -an  elegant  costume  which  she  told 
Alice  her  mother  desired  her  to  wear,  and 


A   WHOLESOME    LESSON.  73 

begged  her  to  make  haste  and  be  dressed,  as 
the  musicians  had  arrived,  and  the  ball  was 
about  to  begin.  Alice  would  not  believe 
this,  and  ran  to  her  father  to  obtain  an  ex- 
planation. 

"  Is  it  true,  papa,  that  the  party  is  going 
to  begin  in  the  middle  of  the  day?"  she 
asked. 

"Yes,  my  child,"  Mr.  Morris  replied; 
"  the  ladies  have  desired  that  the  ball  com- 
mence early  on  account  of  their  children, 
who  are  not  allowed  to  sit  up  late  ;  but  since 
you  are  so  fond  of  dancing,  my  little  girl, 
you  may  remain  all  night,  if  it  will  amuse 
you." 

Alice  thought  this  very  reasonable,  and 
thanking  her  father  for  his  permission,  went 
back  to  her  room,  and  was  soon  ready  for 
the  festivities  of  the  day.  All  the  shutters 
were  closed  and  the  lamps  lighted,  and  it 
was  only  here  and  there  that  a  ray  of  sun- 
light penetrated  through  some  chink  or 
crevice.  The  parlor  was  soon  filled  with 
gaily  dressed  children,  and  Alice,  in  her 


74  A   BOOK  FOR  GIRLS. 

character  of  hostess,  was  the  gayest  and  live- 
liest of  all.  She  lost  no  time  standing  still 
or  sitting  down,  I  assure  you ;  never  was 
little  girl  more  restless.  Her  father  looked 
at  her  from  time  to  time,  and  smiled  to  think 
how  it  would  all  end. 

The  children  frolicked  and  gambolled  until 
eight  in  the  evening ;  then  supper  was  an- 
nounced, and  they  pressed  eagerly  forward 
to  the  dining-room.  They  had  well  earned 
the  repast,  they  were  about  to  enjoy,  by  the 
length  and  excitement  of  their  exercise. 

Alice,  who  had  been  the  leader  of  every 
game,  was  very  hungry,  and  advanced  to  the 
table  with  the  children,  with  the  intention 
of  doing  the  honors,  it  is  true,  but  also 
with  the  desire  and  expectation  of  getting 
something  to  eat. 

Just  as  she  was  seating  herself,  her  father 
placed  his  hand  on  her  shoulder. 

"The  grand  ball  is  about  to  commence, 
my  dear ;  the  dancing  will  begin  immediate- 
ly ;  it  is  not  worth  while  to  remain  here  with 
the  children,  particularly  as  you  are  so  fond 


A   WHOLESOME   LESSON.  75 

of  dancing;  come,  take  your  place  in  the 
quadrille,  and  let  us  see  how  you  have 
profited  by  your  lessons." 

Alice  heard  this  with  emotions  far  from 
joyful,  and  bade  a  wistful  adieu  to  the  table 
loaded  with  delicacies,  envying  the  little 
boys  and  girls  that  were  filling  their  plates 
with  cakes  and  dainties,  and  wishing  that 
she  could  have  even  a  cup  of  coffee  before 
leaving  the  dining-room.  But  she  was 
obliged"  to  leave  this  tempting  supper,  and 
begin  a  new  ball  without  having  had  time  to 
rest  from  the  first,  without  having  been  able 
to  sit  down  for  an  instant.  It  seemed  cruel 
to  her ;  but  she  remembered  having  said  she 
would  like  to  dance  three  days  and  three 
nights  without  stopping,  and  this  was  not  the 
end  of  the  first,  and  Alice  was  too  proud  to 
cry  "mercy." 


CHAPTER  H. 

THE  GRAND  BALL. 

IN.  entering  the  ball  room  she  was 
charmed  with  the  view  before  her. 
Hardly  twelve  years  of  age,  she  had  never 
before  attended  a  large  party ;  here  all  was 
light,  perfume  and  flowers.  She  was  de- 
lighted, for  the  time  being,  and  forgot  her 
hunger  in  this  new  excitement. 

All  at  once  she  began  to  feel  a  great  con- 
tempt for  her  little  companions,  who  were 
resting  in  the  other  room,  compelled  to  sit 
quietly  and  eat  cakes,  like  turbulent  chil- 
dren, while  she  was  enjoying  the  privilege 
of  being  in  grown-up  society.  A  few  min- 
utes ago  she  had  been  a  gay,  romping  child  ; 

7« 


A   WHOLESOME    LESSOX.  77 

now,  all  was  changed,  and  she  sat,  sober  and 
solemn,  as  became  her  new  dignity. 

She  endeavored  to  assume  an  air  of  grav- 
ity, and  to  such  an  extent  was  she  success- 
ful, that  several  persons  thought  she  had 
been  scolded.  But  Alice,  quite  uncon- 
scious of  what  was  passing  in  their  minds, 
preserved  her  stern  exterior,  in  spite  of 
their  compassionate  glances.  She  was  not 
at  all  in  bad  humor ;  on  the  contrary, 
never  before  had  she  been  so  proud  and 
happy. 

It  was  quite  another  thing,  when  a  young 
man,  in  full  party  costume  and  white  gloves, 
approaching  her  with  the  greatest  respect, 
uttered  these  wonderful  words  :  "  Miss,  will 
you  honor  me  with  your  hand  for  the  first 
quadrille  ?  "  Alice  was  so  flattered  that  she 
could  scarcely  reply.  "Yes,  sir;  with 
pleasure." 

With  pleasure  !  that  was  the  sincere  truth. 
She  was  about  to  dance  in  earnest  with  a 
young  man  who  wore  gloves,  a  cavalier,  who 
said:  "  Miss,  will  you  honor  me  with  your 


78  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

hand  for  the  first  quadrille,"  and  not  with  a 
rough  little  boy,  who  would  say,  "  Come  on, 
cousin  Alice,  and  dance  with  me."  How 
rude  that  familiar  invitation  seemed  to  her 
now  1 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE    QUADRILLE. 

|  LICE  was  so  happy  that  she  entirely 
forgot  her  fatigue.  She  danced  grace- 
fully, and  soon  had  many  offers.  Dance 
succeeded  dance,  and  after  having  been  on 
her  feet  all  day,  she  began  to  feel  extremely 
tired  ;  but  there  was  nothing  left  to  her  but 
to  hold  out  as  long  as  possible.  The  floor 
was  very  smooth  and  slippery,  and  her  tired 
little  feet  were  more  than  once  on  the  point 
of  playing  her  false. 

"You  love  dancing,  Miss  Alice? "asked 
her  partner. 

"Yes,  sir." 

79 


80  A   BOOK  FOR   GIRLS. 

"  And  well  you  may,  for  you  dance  beau- 
tifully." 

Alice  put  her  feet  close  together  to  rest 
them  a  little,  and  her  partner,  observing  the 
movement,  said  : 

"  The  floor  is  quite  slippery,  particularly 
to  one  who  is  not  accustomed  to  it ;  but  you 
will  soon  be  used  to  the  smooth  surface," 
and  with  these  words,  the  quadrille  being 
finished,  he  conducted  her  to  her  place. 

Alice  felt  piqued  at  the  unconscious  young 
man.  How  could  he  know  she  was  unaccus- 
tomed to  dancing  at  balls.  A  few  moments 
ago  she  had  been  all  admiration,  but  now  she 
thought  him  impertinent. 

Another  young  man  invited  her  to  dance 
immediately,  then  another,  and  another, 
until  she  was  obliged  to  reply  to  all,  "  I  am 
engaged."  Six  quadrilles  in  perspective, 
when  she  had  already  danced  twelve,  for 
she  had  been  tripping  it  since  mid-day.  It 
was  almost  too  much.  But  then,  her  vanity 
would  give  her  no  peace,  and  her  father  was 
present.  She  had  declared  her  ability  to 


A   WHOLESOME   LESSON.  81 

dance  three  days  and  nights  without  fatigue. 
Her  next  partner  was  not  at  all  agreeable. 
A  fat  little  man,  with  a  red  nose,  and  very 
short  breath,  he  puffed  and  puffed,  till  the 
people  in  the  vicinity  wondered  if  he  might 
not  be  on  the  verge  of  an  apoplectic  fit. 

"You  love  dancing,  miss? "he  said,  be- 
tween the  puffs,  in  a  hoarse  voice.  Then, 
without  waiting  for  an  answer,  he  added  : 
"I  love  it,  too;  but  you  do  things  too 
quickly  here.  In  my  country,  that  dear  old 
Germany,  they  waltz  very  sweetly,  and  it  is 
less  fatiguing,  I  do  assure  you.  I  have  only 
danced  four  quadrilles,  and,  I  confess  it,  I 
am  extremely  tired." 

These  words  reminded  Alice  that  she,  too, 
was  fatigued ;  and  her  courage  began  to 
abandon  her.  Her  next  partner  was  a  sol- 
emn young  man,  who  marched  up  and  down, 
as  though  he  were  the  undertaker  at  a 
funeral ,  who  seemed  rather  to  be  performing 
a  duty  than  a  pleasure,  and  who  led  her 
through  the  dance  with  an  air  of  resigna- 
tion. Still,  he  thought  himself  obliged  to 


82  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

be  polite  to  the  young  lady  of  the  house, 
and  he  said  to  her,  very  gravely  and  slowly  : 

"  Do  you  like  dancing,  miss?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Alice,  turning  her  head 
away  as  she  did  so.  This  prevented  all  fur- 
ther conversation. 

The  next,  and  the  next,  and  the  next, 
asked  her  the  same  question,  till  she  began 
to  ask  herself  why  their  conversation  never 
varied.  It  was  because  they  did  not  know 
what  else  to  say  to  a  little  girl  of  twelve 
years.  But  Alice,  in  blissful  ignorance,  con- 
tinued to  preserve  her  dignified  exterior. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    THIRTEENTH    QUADRILLE. 


disenchanted,  was  so  disgusted 
with  dancing  that  she  thought  she 
could  never  again  like  the  amusement  ;  she 
regretted  her  little  cousins,  and  longed  to  be 
laughing  at  some  of  their  fooleries. 

Exhausted  by  fatigue,  she  was  thinking  of 
some  pretext  to  retire,  when  a  friend  of  her 
father,  an  old  colonel,  about  sixty  years  of 
age,  advanced  towards  her,  and  exclaimed  : 

"Here  you  are,  my  pretty  little  Alice  ;  [ 
must  ask  a  favor  of  you  ;  I  must  absolutely 
dance  with  you.  My  dear,  I  have  not  seen 
you  for  five  years.  Come,  let  us  be  quick,  I 
hear  the  music,  we  have  not  a  moment  to  lose." 

83 


84  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

Alice  was  obliged  to  follow  him,  but  she 
was  not  quite  so  eager  for  the  dance  as  lie. 
The  poor  child  did  not  wish  to  disoblige  her 
father's  friend,  one  who  had  been  very  kind 
and  generous  towards  her  since  her  earliest 
childhood.  So  she  summoned  courage  to 
dance  once  more. 

But  this  dance  was  destined  to  be  a  trial ; 
the  old  man  went  through  it  with  all  his 
heart,  and  gave  Alice  an  extra  turn  at  every 
figure.  He  looked  so  large  and  comical  in 
his  green  gloves  and  blue  spectacles,  that 
the  attention  of  the  company  was  fixed  on 
him,  while  Alice,  who  by  contrast,  looked 
smaller  and  more  fragile  than  she  really  was, 
could  not  help  feeling  her  cherished  dignity 
slowly  vanishing. 

Her  father,  who  stood  near,  took  pity  on  her. 
"  It  is  long  past  your  bed-time,  my  dear,"  said 
he  ;  "I  am  afraid  you  are  greatly  fatigued." 

But  Alice,  who  saw  the  involuntary  smile 
on  his  face  as  he  spoke,  answered  promptly  : 
"I,  papa?  No,  indeed;  I  intend  to  dance 
all  night." 


A    WHOLESOME    LESSON.  85 

And  Mr.  Morris,  hoping  to  give  her  some 
rest,  in  spite  of  herself,  requested  the  musi- 
cians to  play  a  waltz.  Alice  could  not  waltz, 
and  looked  abdut  her  for  a  place  where  she 
might  rest  unobserved.  She  hoped  the 
dancers  would  forget  her,  and  that  those 
around  her  would  soon  take  home  their 
brothers  and  sisters,  for  several  had  already 
quitted  the  room.  Alice  saw  them  depart 
with  envy. 

"Oh,  dear!"  she  thought,  "they  are 
going  to  bed  and  to  sleep."  Every  time  she 
bade  adieu  to  a  lady  or  gentleman,  she  pro- 
longed her  good-night  with  the  hope  that  the 
dancers  would  forget  her  existence  ;  but  no, 
they  were  pitiless,  they  followed  her  even 
into  the  ante-room  with  their  importunities. 

The  ceaseless  music,  joined  to  the  fatigue 
which  was  overcoming  her,  began  to  be  un- 
endurable ;  everything  seemed  to  turn  round  ; 
she  could  scarcely  see.  Sleep  weighed  down 
her  eyelids,  she  did  not  know  where  she 
was.  This  eternal  dancing  seemed  like  a 
terrible  nightmare  from  which  she  was  never 


86  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

to  escape.  She  felt  oppressed.  These  ever 
recurring  words  sounded  like  a  condemna- 
tion in  her  ears : 

"To  your  places."  "English  chain." 
"Balance  to  partners."  "Forward  two." 
"Eight  hand  across."  "Left  hand  back." 
"  All  hands  around." 

She  sought  refuge  on  a  lounge  that  stood 
near  the  entrance  of  a  pretty  little  boudoir 
at  the  end  of  the  parlors.  But  she  was 
speedily  interrupted  in  her  half  slumber  by 
these  terrible  words : 

"  Miss  Alice,  I  have  found  a  vi*-a-vis,  we 
can  dance  this  set.  The  quadrille  is  about  to 
commence, "and  then  began  the  odious  refrain  : 

"To  your  places."  "English  chain." 
"Balance  to  partners."  "Forward  two." 
"Right  hand  across."  "Left  hand  back." 
44  All  hands  round." 

After  this  was  finished,  Alice  went  in 
search  of  her  father  and  mother,  who  were 
playing  whist  with  some  friends  in  the 
library.  As  she  approached  them,  she  as- 
sumed a  joyous  air. 


A    WHOLESOME    LESSON.  87 

"  Are  you  enjoying  your  game?"  she  in- 
quired, smiling. 

"Yes,  my  child,"  said  her  mother;  "but 
how  is  it  that  you  are  not  sleepy  ?" 

"  Oh,  it  is  because  I  am  amusing  myself 
so  well." 

Then  a  partner  came  to  claim  her,  and  the 
refrain  was  repeated : 

"  To  your  places."  "  English  chain." 
"Balance  to  partners."  "Forward  two." 
"Right  hand  across."  "Left  hand  back." 
"All  hands  round."  The  last  words  were 
welcome,  for  they  at  least  meant  a  little  rest. 


CHAPTER    V. 

SLIGHTLY   FATIGUED. 

|T  was  four  o'clock  in  the  morning ;  it 
was  spring ;  the  day  began  to  break. 
A  window  was  open,  facing  the  street,  in 
one  of  the  grand  parlors  already  deserted. 
Alice  sat  on  a  fauteuil  in  front  of  the  win- 
dow, gazing  sadly  into  the  street. 

"It  was  daylight  when  the  children's 
party  began,"  she  thought;  "the  night  is 
past,  the  day  has  returned,  and  I  must  still 
dance."  For  you  see  she  did  not  forget  her 
foolish  assertion,  and  she  thought  herself 
very  silly  for  having  made  it.  However, 
seeing  that  the  ball  was  nearly  over,  she 
wished  still  farther  to  prove  her  courage, 

88 


A   WHOLESOME   LESSOX.  89 

and  resolved  to  be  brave  until  every  one 
had  gone.  "When  the  musicians  have  left," 
she  thought,  -"there  can  be  no  more  oppor- 
tunity to  dance." 

Ah  !  what  forces  you  to  dance,  little  sim- 
pleton, but  your  pride  and  obstinacy? 

That  is  what  I  should  have  replied,  had 
I  been  there  ;  but  it  happened  that  I  was  not 
invited  to  the  ball. 

At  this  juncture,  several  milkmen  passed 
in  their  waggons,  and  were  annoyed  at  the 
carriages  that  blocked  the  way.  "What 
need  is  there  of  sitting  up  so  late  and  in- 
conveniencing poor  folks,"  said  they. 

"  And  can  they  not  amuse  themselves 
without  obstructing  the  road  ?  " 

Alice  heard  the  remark.  "As  though  this 
was  amusement,"  she  thought.  The  fresh 
morning  air  penetrated  her  senses,  and  filled 
her  with  such  a  soothing  influence  that  the 
music  seemed  to  her  a  distant  strain,  which 
grew  fainter  and  fainter  every  moment.  The 
fatal  words  fell  on  her  ear  as  before,  but  not 
unpleasantly.  She  had  knelt  on  the  bench 


90  A   BOOK   FOR   GIELS. 

with  her  arms  on  the  stone  balustrade,  that 
she  might  look  down  into  the  street ;  insen- 
sibly her  head  drooped,  and  fell  upon  her 
hands  ;  Alice  was  asleep.  The  gradual  move- 
ment had  disarranged  her  hair,  the  comb  that 
confined  it  fell  to  the  pavement,  and  only  one 
little  flower  remained  to  tell  of  glories  de- 
parted. The  young  man  who  was  to  have 
been  her  partner  sought  her  in  vain  ;  she  was 
hidden  by  the  window  shutters,  which  had 
closed  behind  her.  Her  father,  not  seeing 
her,  thought  she  had  gone  to  bed  at  last,  and 
her  mother  was  of  the  same  opinion.  Her 
slumber  was  so  profound  that  she  did  not 
feel  the  cold,  nor  hear  the  noise  of  the  street, 
which  increased  every  moment.  Perhaps  she 
might  have  remained  there  till  evening,  if  a 
policeman  had  not  noticed  a  comb  on  the 
pavement  with  some  teeth  broken  out,  and  a 
little  spray  of  artificial  flowers,  which  seemed 
to  have  been  there  but  a  short  time. 

A  natural  curiosity  caused  him  to  raise 
his  eyes  to  the  balcony  above,  to  the  window 
from  which  these  objects  appeared  to  have 


A    WHOLESOME   LESSON.  91 

fallen.  Then  he  perceived  several  long  curls 
drooping  over  the  balustrade. 

Dismayed  at  this  sight,  he  recoiled  several 
paces,  and  saw  Alice  asleep  on  the  window 
sill.  As  she  did  not  move,  and  her  hair  was 
dishevelled,  he  concluded  that  she  was  dead, 
that  she  had  been  murdered.  For  this  was 
a  young  and  romantic  policeman,  with  a  taste 
for  the  melodramatic,  and  fond  of  reading 
sensational  newspapers. 

He  knocked  at  the  door,  and  awakened  a 
footman  who  was  sleeping  in  the  hall.  The 
footman  called  the  housemaid,  who  was  also 
asleep  on  a  lounge. 

"A  dreadful  thing  has  occurred  in  your 
house,"  said  the  policeman  ;  but  the  house- 
maid stretched  out  her  arms  with  a  yawn, 
not  understanding  what  he  said. 

"A  great  misfortune  has  happened,"  re- 
peated the  policeman,  "  a  murder, "he  added, 
for  greater  effect. 

' '  A  murder  ! "  repeated  footman  and  house- 
maid in  concert. 

"  Yes,  a  murder  I    A  young  lady  has  been 


92  A   BOOK  FOR   GIRLS. 

assassinated  during  the  fete."  (This  was  a 
melodramatic  phrase,  and  he  thought  it  well 
put  in.) 

"Ah,  mon  Dieuf  It  must  be  Miss 
Alice,"  said  the  young  lady's  maid,  who  now 
appeared  from  some  other  corner  of  the  cor- 
ridor. 

"I  have  been  waiting  for  her  all  night  in 
her  room,  and  she  never  came."  Then  she 
ran  with  wide-open  eyes  to  Mr.  Morris. 

"Oh,  sir,"  she  exclaimed,  "a  dreadful 
thing  has  happened  Miss  Alice." 

"My  daughter,"  said  Mr.  Morris,  uneasily. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  a  man  saw  her  in  a  fainting-fit 
by  a  window."  "  I  said  fainting-fit  so  as  not 
to  frighten  him,"  she  explained  to  the  people 
who  gave  egress  to  Mr.  Morris  through  their 
midst.  "  But  it  is  far  worse  —  she  has  been 
murdered." 

At  these  words  every  one  crowded  to  the 
windows  —  the  music  ceased,  the  dancing 
was  interrupted,  and  all  the  shutters  of  the 
various  windows  were  opened  in  an  instant. 

"  Here  she  is,  here  she  is,"  cried  one  of  the 


A    WHOLESOME    LESSON.  93 

young  dancers  who  had  murdered  Alice,  and 
they  all  hastened  to  his  side. 

"  She  is  on  her  knees,"  said  one. 

"  She  is  soiirid  asleep,"  said  another. 

"  She  has  fainted,"  said  the  chambermaid, 
endeavoring  to  revive  her. 

"Be  quiet,"  said  Mr.  Morris;  "let  her 
sleep  till  to-morrow,  if  she  will ;  she  has  need 
of  repose,  I  assure  you,  and  I  am  confident 
you  can  remove  her  from  here  without 
awaking  her." 


CHAPTER    VI. 

A    WELL    CHOSEN    SARCASM. 

|S  it  proved,  they  removed  the  little  girl 
to  her  room,  and  undressed  her  with- 
out having  disturbed  her  slumber. 

That  evening,  at  five  o'clock,  while  the 
rest  of  the  family  awaited  dinner  in  the  sa- 
loon, her  mother  announced  that  Alice  had 
just  awakened. 

Her  father  and  cousins  looked  impatiently 
for  her  coming.  When  she  appeared,  she 
was  greeted  with  laughter,  and  Alice,  greatly 
mortified,  began  to  cry. 

"  Come,  my  child,"  said  her  father  ;  "  do 
not  cry.  I  am  certain  you  are  quite  cured." 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes,  papa,"  said  Alice,  weeping 

94 


A   WHOLESOME   LESSON.  95 

bitterly,  "  I  will  never  dance  again  as  long 
as  I  live." 

"Take  care,**  replied  her  father,  "that  is 
an  exaggeration'  also  ;  do  not  forswear  danc- 
ing altogether;  I  am  sure  you  will  like  it 
better  than  ever,  in  the  course  of  time." 

"  Alice,"  said  a  mischievous  cousin, 
"won't  you  come  to  Mrs.  Volnar's  party 
this  evening?  They  say  it  will  be  charm- 
ing." 

"  Xaughty  girl,"  replied  Alice,  half  laugh- 
ing, half  crying,  "  you  know  well  that  I  can- 
not even  walk." 

"Come,  children,"  said  her  father,  "do 
not  torment  her ;  let  us  think  no  more  about 
the  affair ;  and  I  am  sure  Alice  will  never 
again  give  us  cause  to  remember  it  by  a  sim- 
ilar fault." 

They  changed  the  conversation ;  but  the 
mischievous  little  cousin,  seating  herself  at 
the  piano,  began  playing  the  well-known  air 
"  Danse  n'est  pas  ce  que  faime"  which  may 
be  translated  into,  "  I  do  not  love  dancing," 
or  "  dancing  is  not  what  I  love." 


9G  A   BOOK  FOR  GIRLS. 

All  the  family  laughed  at  this  incident, 
which  was  just  to  the  point.  It  was  adopted 
as  an  expression,  and  whenever  Alice  was 
tempted  to  indulge  in  her  old  exaggerations, 
her  father  would  playfully  hum  the  old  air, 
and  it  was  enough  to  recall  her. 

Let  this  story  teach  you,  my  little  readers, 
how  great  is  the  fault  of  exaggeration,  and 
that  the  only  means  of  curing  persons  ad- 
dicted to  it  is  by  forcing  them  to  keep  their 
promises. 


a  winter's  day  in  the  year  1799,  a 
woman  of  about  thirty-five  years  of 
age,  of  distinguished  appearance,  but  poorly 
attired,  traversed  the  Rue  St.  Denis,  looking 
at  all  the  houses  where  bills  for  apartments 
were  displayed,  as  if  in  search  of  a  lodging. 
She  leaned  on  the  arm  of  a  young  person, 
who  might,  perhaps,  have  seen  sixteen  or 
seventeen  years,  and  whose  pretty  figure, 
and  sweet  and  noble  features  attracted  the 
notice  of  the  passers-by,  in  spite  of  the 
common  stuff  dress  and  faded  hat  which  she 

97 


98  A   BOOK    FOR   GIRLS. 

wore.  On  the  other  side  the  lady  held  by 
the  hand  a  little  girl  of  six  years  old,  fresh 
and  smiling,  and  whose  cheerful  babble  at 
times  dissipated  even  the  melancholy  im- 
printed on  the  features  of  her  two  compan- 
ions. 

These  three  persons  stopped  at  last  at  the 
entrance  of  a  passage,  which  led  to  a  house 
of  poor  appearance,  but  yet  neat  and  clean. 
Here  she  ascended  to  the  fourth  floor,  which 
consisted  of  two  bed-rooms  and  a  little  sit- 
ting-room, and  these  she  hired  at  a  rent  of 
fifty  francs  per  month. 

She  who  was  lodged  in  so  modest  a  habi- 
tation was  born,  and  for  a  long  time  hud 
lived,  in  opulence.  She  was  the  widow  of 
the  Marquis  de  Rostain,  whom  she  accom- 
panied abroad  in  1792  ;  and  her  property, 
like  that  of  her  husband,  had  become  the 
property  of  the  nation.  The  marquis  had 
died  at  Frankfort  during  the  preceding  year, 
leaving  his  wife  and  two  children  with  only 
t\vo  hundred  louis  d'ors,  the  poor  remains  of 
a  considerable  sum  which  he  had  when  he 


THE   YOUNG   BALLAD   SINGER.  99 

left  France.  Such  means  were  evidently 
quite  insufficient  to  enable  the  marchioness 
and  her  daughters  to  reside  in  a  foreign  city, 
where,  without  relations  or  friends  to  aid 
them,  she  could  not  even  hope  to  reap  any 
benefits  from  her  talents  and  industry. 

Alarmed  by  the  unpromising  prospects  of 
her  childern,  she  did  not  hesitate  for  their 
sakes  to  brave  everything,  in  the  hope  of 
releasing  them  from  poverty.  So  soon, 
therefore,  as  time  had  somewhat  soothed  the 
first  excess  of  her  grief  for  the  loss  of  her 
husband,  she  set  out  for  France,  where  she 
had  formerly  been  condemned  to  the  scaffold, 
and  where  she  only  ventured  to  return  under 
the  assumed  name  of  Madame  Dupre. 

The  Marchioness  de  Rostain  had  a  cousin- 
german  in  Paris,  who,  though  a  great  deal 
older  than  she,  had  formerly  loved  her  as  :i 
sister.  The  Count  de  Sannois  had  not  emi- 
grated, and  his  son  had  entered  the  French 
army  at  a  very  early  age,  where  he  became 
so  much  distinguished  for  his  bravery,  that 
he  was  rapidly  promoted  to  the  highest 


100  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

honors.  As  more  than  once  Madame  de 
Rostain  had  seen  the  name  of  her  young 
relation  mentioned  with  praise  in  the  jour- 
nals, it  was  especially  upon  the  protection  of 
Monsieur  de  Sannois  that  she  reckoned  as  a 
means  for  recovering,  if  possible,  a  part  of 
her  fortune,  or,  at  least,  to  secure  the  erasure 
of  her  name  from  the  fatal  list. 

What,  then,  was  her  disappointment  when, 
on  arriving  in  Paris,  she  learned  that  M.  de 
Sannois  had  been  travelling  in  Italy  for  six 
months ;  that  the  period  of  his  return  was 
uncertain,  though  it  was  supposed  that  it 
would  be  soon ;  and  that  his  son  was  in 
Egypt,  where  he  had  followed  Napoleon. 

Madame  de  Rostain,  who  had  not  now  re- 
maining more  than  half  of  the  small  sum  left 
to  her  by  her  husband,  would  have  given 
herself  up  to  despair,  if  her  courage  had 
not  been  supported  by  that  of  her  eldest 
daughter. 

Though  Leontine  was  scarcely  sixteen 
years  old,  her  character  and  intelligence, 
developed  by  misfortune,  were  far  beyond 


THE    YOUXG   BALLAD    SINGER.  101 

her  years.  She  consoled  her  mother,  and 
reminded  her  of  the  time  when,  in  order  to 
support  the  expenses  of  the  long  illness 
which  finally  deprived  them  of  Monsieur  de 
Kostain,  the}'  had  both  united  in  their  efforts 
of  industry. 

"  Why  cannot  we  do  in  Paris  what  we  did 
at  Frankfort,  mamma?"  said  the  amiable 
girl.  "Since  it  is  so  important  that  you 
should  not  be  recognized  by  any  one,  and  it 
is  necessary  we  should  live  in  the  greatest 
solitude,  we  can  lodge  cheaply  in  one  of 
those  quarters  not  frequented  by  the  fashion- 
able world,  and  only  go  out  of  an  evening 
to  take  the  air,  while  we  work  during  the 
day.  It  will  be  easy  for  you  to  dispose  of 
our  work  to  some  shopkeeper,  who  will  only 
know  you  under  the  name  of  Madame  Dupre, 
and  the  money  we  can  thus  obtain,  joined  to 
what  we  have  still  left,  will  keep  us  very 
well  till  the  return  of  our  cousin." 

Madame  de  Rostain  resolved  to  follow  the 
advice  of  Leontine,  and  did  not  delay  there- 
fore in  establishing  herself  in  the  humble 


102  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

apartments  of  which  we  have  spoken  ;  not, 
however,  without  shedding  many  a  tear  over 
the  fate  of  her  poor  children.  For  a  small 
monthly  payment,  an  old  woman  who  lodged 
in  the  same  house,  came  every  morning  to 
relieve  them  of  the  rougher  part  of  the 
household  duties,  and  Leontine  undertook  all 
the  rest.  She  seemed  to  have  more  than 
one  pair  of  hands,  for  she  would  not  suffer 
her  mother  to  do  anything ;  and  as  soon  as 
she  found  that  their  food,  purchased  at  the 
shop  of  an  indifferent  cook,  did  not  suit  the 
delicate  appetite  of  Madame  de  Kostain,  she 
learned  herself  to  prepare  the  frugal  meals 
of  the  family.  With  what  tenderness,  with 
what  love,  the  poor  mother  followed  with  her 
eyes  that  charming  creature,  always  calm, 
always  smiling,  who.  seemed  even  to  take 
pleasure  in  the  most  painful  and  fatiguing 
duties  ! 

So  as  soon  as  Leontine  had  finished  what 
she  called  her  work,  she  would  come  gaily 
and  sit  down  beside  her  mother  and  sister, 
and  go  on  with  her  embroidery,  or  make  a 


THE    YOUNG   BALLAD    SINGER.  103 

purse,  a  reticule,  or  some  other  of  those 
fancy  articles  for  which  Madame  cle  Rostain 
had  found  a  sale  at  the  shop  of  a  great  mer- 
cer in  the  Rue  St.  Denis,  and  who  paid  for 
them  a  very  small,  but  ready-money  price. 

Madame  de  Rostain  herself,  and  even  the 
little  Juliet,  never  quitted  the  needle  during 
the  day  ;  and  when  the  evening  came,  it  was 
a  great  relief  for  the  wrhole  family  to  go  and 
take  a  long  walk  upon  the  boulevards,  when- 
ever the  weather  would  permit. 

One  evening  the  mother  and  daughters 
had  been  as  far  as  the  Madeleine,  and  were 
coming  back  very  much  fatigued,  when  they 
were  stopped  just  by  the  Rue  St.  Denis,  not 
only  by  a  number  of  persons  who  had  col- 
lected there,  but  by  the  attractive  sounds  of 
a  very  beautiful  voice  which  was  heard  from 
the  midst  of  the  crowd. 

A  woman  whose  face  was  concealed  under 
a  black  veil,  was  singing,  to  her  own  accom- 
paniment on  the  guitar,  a  very  difficult 
Italian  air;  and  she  sung,  too,  with  much 
more  taste  arid  musical  knowledge  than 


104  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

could  have  been  expected  from  an  artist  of 
that  class. 

As  soon  as  she  had  finished,  the  bystand- 
ers eagerly  threw  their  pieces  of  money  into 
the  little  basket  which  was  placed  at  her  feet. 

"  That  woman's  singing  is  quite  surpris- 
ing," said  Leontine  ;  "allow  me,  mamma, 
to  give  her  this  little  bit  of  money." 

Then  with  the  consent  of  her  mother  she 
threw  six  sous  into  the  basket. 

The  music  which  they  had  heard  formed 
the  subject  of  conversation  with  Madame  de 
Rostain  and  her  daughters  till  the  time  of 
going  to  bed  ;  and  the  next  morning  Leon- 
tine's  mind  was  so  much  occupied  by  it,  that 
she  asked  the  charwoman  whether  that  poor 
creature  who  sung  so  well  was  known  in  the 
neighborhood. 

"Ah,  have  you  heard  her?"  answered 
Mother  Boudreau  ;  ' '  has  she  not  a  charming 
throat?  It  is  like  that  of  a  nightingale. 
Ah,  I  could  live  well  for  a  week  out  of  her 
profits  for  one  evening  ! " 

"  Do  you  believe,  then,"  said  Leontine, 


THE   YOUNG   BALLAD   SINGER.  105 

"  that  if  that  poor  unfortunate  could  make 
any  savings,  she  would  continue  such  a  mel- 
ancholy trade?" 

"Bah,  bah  !  "  said  the  old  woman,  "  she 
has  no  economy  ;  she  spends  ;  she  drinks  !  " 

"Do  you  know  her,  then?"  said  Made- 
moiselle de  Hostain. 

"  Not  at  all,"  answered  the  woman.  "  It 
is  not  more  than  six  weeks  that  she  has 
come  every  Thursday  evening  to  sing  on 
our  boulevard  ;  she  does  not  belong  to  the 
quarter ;  she  is  some  street-walker,  no 
doubt." 

Leontine  did  not  think  so  ill  of  her,  and 
could  not  endure  to  hear  her  slandered ; 
besides  that,  the  talent  of  the  poor  woman 
had  captivated  her.  She  therefore  imme- 
diately broke  off  the  conversation,  which 
had  by  no  means  diminished  her  pity  for  the 
singer. 

Before  their  establishment  at  Frankfort, 
M.  de  Rostam  and  his  family  had  spent  two 
years  in  Italy ;  and  Leontine,  whose  voice 
was  superb,  had  taken  lessons  of  the  best 


106  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

masters  in  that  country,  and  thereby  greatly 
improved  her  natural  taste  for  music.  Thus, 
when  sitting  by  her  mother  at  work,  she 
was  incessantly  singing  snatches  of  the  airs 
which  she  had  formerly  practised,  and  on  the 
day  alluded  to  she  repeated  with  an  accuracy, 
that  was  truly  remarkable,  the  song  which 
the  poor  woman  had  sung  on  the  preceding 
evening. 

"  What  a  pity  it  is,  Leontine,"  said  little 
Juliet,  when  her  sister  had  finished  the  air, 
* '  that  you  have  not  your  piano  to  accompany 
you  !  " 

"Or  at  least  a  guitar,"  answered  Leon- 
tine  ;  "that  Italian  music  does  not  do  well 
without  an  accompaniment."  It  was  tho 
first  time  that  Leontine  had  expressed  any 
thing  approaching  to  a  regret  relative  to 
the  amusements  of  her  past  life ;  and  ;i  ; 
Madame  cle  Rostain  was  by  no  means  indif- 
ferent upon  the  subject,  two  days  after- 
wards, when,  according  to  her  custom,  she 
carried  home  the  week's  work,  she  brought 
back  with  her  for  her  beloved  daughter 


THE    YOUNG   BALLAD    SINGER.  107 

a  very  beautiful  guitar  which  she  had 
bought. 

"  Oh,  mamma!  "  exclaimed  Leontine,  as 
she  covered  her  mother's  hand  with  kisses, 
"  I  blame  myself  for  having  mentioned  the 
guitar ;  you  have  been  spending  a  great  deal 
of  money  for  me,  I  am  sure." 

"  No,  not  much,  my  love,"  answered  the 
poor  mother ;  ' '  and  at  any  rate  we  shall 
now  be  able  to  have  some  music,  which  will 
be  a  great  enjoyment  for  me,  Leontine." 

Every  evening,  indeed,  after  the  guitar 
was  bought,  Leontine,  before  going  to  bed, 
took  her  guitar,  and  sung  the  airs  which 
were  the  greatest  favorites  with  her  mother 
and  sister,  and  this  innocent  amusement 
made  a  pleasant  termination  to  their  sad  and 
toilsome  days. 

The  summer,  however,  had  quite  passed 
away  without  any  change  in  the  position  of 
the  little  family.  Monsieur  de  Sannois  had 
not  yet  returned,  and  the  people  at  his  hotel 
were  even  ignorant  in  what  part  of  Italy  he 
then  was.  Meanwhile  the  incessant  toil  of 


108  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

Madame  de  Rostain  and  her  daughters  was 
insufficient  for  their  support,  and  the  trifle 
of  money  in  their  possession  diminished  day 
by  day. 

Leontine,  who  denied  herself  almost  every 
necessary,  entreated  Madame  de  Rostain  not 
to  renounce  various  little  luxuries,  which 
her  age,  and  the  long  enjoyment  of  a  large 
fortune,  had  converted  into  actual  wants. 
Her  supplications  upon  this  point  were  the 
more  earnest,  because  she  perceived  the 
health  of  her  beloved  mother  visibly  declin- 
ing. Madame  de  Rostain  grew  wretchedly 
thin  ;  she  became  fatigued  with  the  evening 
walk,  which  she  was  compelled  to  abridge 
from  day  to  day  ;  but  in  which  she  obsti- 
nately persisted,  in  order  that  her  daughters 
might  have  the  benefit  of  the  air. 

Very  soon  she  could  only  take  a  turn 
upon  the  nearest  boulevard,  and  sit  down 
there  to  rest  for  an  hour.  Leontine  had 
then  plenty  of  time  to  observe  the  poor 
singer,  and  she  soon  found  that  the  woman 
collected  a  great  deal  of  money ;  for  the 


THE   YOUNG   BALLAD    SINGER.  109 

passers-by  were  continually  throwing  small 
pieces  of  silver  into  her  little  basket. 

Leontine  began  at  last  to  think  that 
Mother  Boudreau  was  perhaps  right,  when 
on  a  sudden  the  singer's  visits  to  the  boule- 
vard ceased  ;  and  more  than  a  month  having 
passed  without  her  reappearing,  Leontine 
pleased  herself  with  the  belief  that  the  poor 
woman  had  acquired  a  little  fortune. 

The  health  of  Madame  de  Rostain  grew 
worse  every  day ;  at  last  she  consented  to 
consult  a  physician,  who  declared  her  to  be 
seriously  ill,  and  forbade  her  to  pursue  any 
kind  of  employment.  The  nervous  weak- 
ness of  her  head  rendered  her  incapable  of 
managing  any  kind  of  business,  and  Leon- 
tine  took  charge  of  the  ten  louis,  which  were 
all  that  remained  to  supply  their  wants.  The 
poor  girl  felicitated  herself  upon  this  ar- 
rangement ;  for  the  regimen  ordered  by  the 
physician  being  somewhat  expensive,  Ma- 
dame de  Rostain  would  never  have  fol- 
lowed it,  if  her  daughter  had  not  been  able 
to  conceal  from  her  the  cost  of  the  niedi- 


110  A   BOOK  FOR  GIRLS. 

cines,  as  well  as  of  other  contingent  ex- 
penses. 

To  crown  all  these  misfortunes,  Leontine, 
who  had  not  only  to  attend  to  the  domestic 
arrangements,  but  also  to  nurse  her  mother, 
had  no  time  left  for  her  needlework,  so  that 
at  last  she  could  not  count  the  money  which 
remained  in  the  purse  without  shedding 
tears.  This  sum  would  not  last  beyond  the 
month,  and  Madame  de  Rostain,  so  far  from 
becoming  convalescent,  was  often  unable 
to  leave  her  bed ;  each  hour  as  it  passed 
brought  them  some  new  misery.  Leontine 
carefully  concealed  her  cruel  anxieties  from 
her  mother  and  sister,  and  many  a  night, 
while  Juliet  slept  peacefully  beside  her,  she 
watered  her  pillow  with  her  tears.  "With 
inexpressible  anguish  of  heart  she  prayed  to 
God  to  send  them  some  assistance ;  but 
when  day  appeared  she  dried  up  her  tears, 
in  order  to  enter  her  mother's  chamber  with 
a  serene  countenance,  and  a  smile  upon  her 
lips. 

At  last  the  fatal  moment  arrived.     A  few 


THE   YOUNG  BALLAD   SIXGEU.  Ill 

sous  alone  remained  in  the  purse ;  and 
Mother  Boudreau  for  a  week  past  had  given 
credit  for  bread  and  meat.  Madame  de 
Rostain,  then,  must  die  for  want  of  help, 
and  Juliet  must  die  of  hunger. 

"  My  God  !  "  exclaimed  Leontine,  "  to- 
morrow, to-morrow,  perhaps,  I  shall  1)3  un- 
able, longer  to  hide  from  them  our  frightful 
position.  I  must  tell  them  everything/' 

The  poor  girl  had  cleared  the  table  of 
the  frugal  dinner,  which  Juliet  alone  had 
touched,  and,  seated  beside  her  mother's 
bed,  remained  for  some  time  plunged  in  the 
most  dreadful  thoughts.  It  was  not  light 
enough  for  her  to  see  to  work,  nor  dark 
enough  for  her  to  venture  to  light  the  only 
candle  which  remained  in  the  house. 

"It  is  a  long  time  since  you  have  touched 
your  guitar,  Leontine,''  said  Madame  da 
Rostain.  "Sing  me  something;  I  should 
like  to  hear  you." 

Though  far  from  being  in  a  mood  to  sing, 
as  may  be  well  imagined,  the  poor  girl 
would  not  refuse  to  her  mother  the  only 


112  A   BOOK  FOR  GIRLS. 

pleasure  she  could  enjoy.  She  therefore 
obeyed,  with  a  heart  oppressed  with  grief, 
and  eyes  full  of  tears ;  and  while  her  sweet 
and  beautiful  voice  soothed  the  heart  of 
Madame  de  Rostain,  a  sudden  thought  came 
into  her  mind ;  she  remembered  the  singer 
of  the  boulevard.  That  woman  had  disap- 
peared, and  whoever  could  take  her  place 
would  be  likely  to  secure  the  same  receipts. 
But  it  would  be  equivalent  to  asking  alms  ! 
Alms  !  well,  even  that  Leontino  thought  she 
was  bound  to  do,  in  order  to  procure  assist- 
ance for  the  beloved  beings  of  whom  she 
was  now  the  sole  support.  Since  Madame 
de  Rostain  had  been  confined  to  the  house, 
Leontine  had  been  compelled  both  to  fetch 
and  take  home  the  work  to  the  mercer  in 
the  Rue  St.  Denis ;  and  she  had  always 
waited  till  night  before  she  ventured  upon 
this  short  journey  into  the  street.  The  next 
evening,  under  the  pretence  of  going  to  the 
shop,  she  said  good-by  to  her  mother,  and 
bidding  Juliet  take  care  of  her  in  her  ab- 
sence, she  went  back  to  her  own  room,  put 


THE    YOUNG   BALLAD    SINGER.  113 

on  a  large  black  veil,  and  with  her  guitar  in 
her  hand,  soon  reached  the  boulevard. 

The  heart  of -the  poor  little  girl  beat  so 
violently  that  she  feared  she  would  not  be 
able  to  summon  courage  for  the  execution 
of  her  project.  But  she  remembered  her 
mother  and  Juliet,  and  placing  a  little  bas- 
ket on  the  ground,  she  began  to  sing  the 
Italian  romance  of  Nina,  one  of  the  tender 
compositions  of  Paesiello.  During  the  first 
strain  several  persons  stopped,  and  very 
soon  a  crowd  had  gathered  round  the  young 
cantatrice,  every  one  speaking  in  surprise 
and  admiration.  Leontine  did  not  hear  these 
praises  ;  but  the  readiness  which  was  shown 
in  dropping  contributions  into  her  little 
basket,  informed  her  of  her  success.  By 
the  time  the  first  couplet  was  finished,  the 
audience  had  contributed  according  to  their 
means,  and  Leontine  judged  that  the  receipts 
must  be  considerable.  She  therefore  sung 
the  second  couplet,  rather  as  an  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  benevolence  of  her  auditors,  than 
with  the  expectation  of  obtaining  more.  One 


114  A    BOOK    FOIl    GIRLS. 

young  man,  however,  approached  just  as  she 
was  concluding,  and  threw  in  his  offering, 
saying  something  at  the  same  time,  the  im- 
port of  which  she  could  not  catch. 

As  soon  as  Leontine  reached  home,  she 
hastened  to  count  her  treasure,  and  her  sur- 
prise was  only  equalled  by  her  joy,  when, 
among  the  pence  and  the  silver,  she  discov- 
ered a  piece  of  gold. 

"Twenty  francs  !"  she  exclaimed  ;  "  twen- 
ty francs  and  fifteen  make  thirty-five.  Here 
is  more  than  enough  for  the  week's  expenses. 
Next  Thursday  I  will  go  and  sing  there  again  ; 
I  will  sing  every  Thursday  till  she  gets  well. 
Oh,  my  God!"  she  added,  clasping  her 
hands,  "  I  render  thee  thanks  for  having  in- 
spired me  with  that  thought."  The  follow- 
ing Thursday,  therefore,  in  pursuance  of  her 
resolution,  Leontine  revisited  the  boulevard. 
As  soon  as  she  had  reached  the  spot  she  had 
chosen,  she  began  to  play  the  prelude  of  a 

little  Italian  air. 

"  '  The  Romance  of  Nina  !'"  cried  a  soft 

voice  near  her. 


THE    YOUNG    BALLAD    SINGEK.  115 

"  Let  them  have  what  they  like,"  thought 
the  poor  child,  to  whom  the  music  chosen 
was  quite  a  matter  of  indifference. 

She  then  sang  the  romance;  her  success 
was  the  same,  and  when  she  had  concluded, 
the  young  man  whom  she  had  before  noticed 
again  approached,  and  when  Leontine  found 
another  piece  of  gold  in  her  little  basket,  she 
justly  attributed  the  gift  to  the  generous 
amateur. 

Madame  de  Rostain  had  left  a  letter  with 
the  Swiss  porter  of  M.  de  Sannois,  which 
contained  her  address,  coupled  with  the 
name  which  she  had  assumed  on  her  return 
to  Paris ;  and  had  begged  the  man,  if  he 
could  not  immediately  remit  it,  at  least  to 
send  it  to  his  master  as  soon  as  possible. 

The  Thursday  following  that  of  which  we 
have  last  spoken,  Leontine  was  thinking  of  a 
new  visit  to  the  boulevard,  when  early  in  the 
morning  a  carriage  stopped  before  the  pas- 
sage in  the  Rue  St.  Denis.  A  gentleman  of 
middle  age  descended  from  it,  and  inquired 
for  Madame  Dupre  :  that  very  evening  Ma- 


110  A    BOOK   FOR    GIRLS. 

dame  de  Rostain  found  herself  transported  to 
a  magnificent  hotel  in  the  Rue  de  Grenelle, 
where  M.  de  Sannois  lavished  on  her  the 
most  tender  cares,  and  declared  himself 
happy  in  furnishing  an  asylum  to  his  beloved 
relations. 

"I  think  I  am  dreaming,  Leontine,"  said 
Madame  de  Rostain,  whose  strength  seemed 
to  revive  amid  this  unexpected  happiness. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  mamma,"  replied  Leontine, 
kissing  the  hands  of  her  mother  in  transport, 
"judge  if  it  was  not  the  providence  of  God 
that  came  to  our  aid,  for  there  was  nothing 
left  in  the  purse  !  " 

But  the  joy  of  the  poor  girl  did  not  tempt 
her  to  add  that  the  purse  had  been  empty 
fifteen  days  before  ;  she  feared  the  knowledge 
of  what  she  had  done  would  afflict  her  mother, 
and  therefore  kept  her  secret. 

Meanwhile  Mother  Boudreau  had  received 
orders  to  bring  to  M.  de  Sannois'  hotel  on 
the  following  morning  certain  trifles  belong- 
ing to  Madame  de  Rostain,  which  were  left 
behind  on  her  hasty  removal. 


THE    YOUNG   BALLAD    SINGER.  117 

The  good  woman  was  exact  to  the  time 
mentioned  ;  and  as  she  assisted  Leontine  to 
unpack  and  arrange  the  various  articles  in 
the  drawers,  she  said,  "I  am  very  glad  I 
have  found  you  by  yourself,  Mademoiselle 
Dupre,  for  I  have  something  to  tell  which 
will  surprise  you." 

"  What  is  it,  then?"  asked  Leontine. 

"  Would  you  believe  that  yesterday  even- 
ing, about  eight  o'clock,  —  yes,  it  must  have 
been  full  eight  o'clock,  for  the  lamps  had 
been  lighted  for  some  time,  — as  I  was  talk- 
ing at  our  door  with  the  man  who  sells  chest- 
nuts, there  comes  up  to  us  a  fine  young  man, 
dressed  like  a  prince,  to  inquire  about  a 
young  singer,  who  lodged,  he  said,  in  our 
house.  He  insisted  upon  it  that  he  saw  this 
singer  turn  down  our  passage  last  Thursday  ; 
and  to  convince  him  of  his  mistake,  I  was 
obliged  to  name  all  our  lodgers  to  him,  one 
after  another/' 

"And  did  you  mention  my  mother  ! "  asked 
Leontine,  greatly  annoyed. 

"  Certainly,"  answered   the    old  woman. 


118  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

"Madame  Dupre  and  her  two  daughters. 
There  was  no  harm  in  that,  was  there?" 

"  ]S~o,"  returned  Leontine,  "if  3*011  were 
discreet  enough  not  to  let  him  know  our 
present  address." 

"  Oh,  I  did  not  think,"  said  Mother  Bou- 
dreau,  with  an  air  of  embarrassment,  "  I  did 
not  think  there  was  any  harm  —  " 

Madame  do  Itostain  at  that  moment  entered 
the  room,  and  Leontine  made  a  signal  to  the 
old  woman  to  be  silent,  and  was  obliged  to 
let  her  go  away  without  learning  more,  which 
greatly  distressed  her. 

There  being  no  female  to  do  the  honors  of 
the  house  where  M.  de  Sannois  resided  alone 
with  his  son,  he  thought  it  proper  for  his 
cousins  to  be  attended  in  their  own  apart- 
ments till  the  health  of  Madame  de  Rostain 
was  sufficiently  re-established  to  enable  her 
to  come  down  to  the  dining-room  with  her 
daughters. 

The  most  tender  and  generous  brother 
could  not  have  received  a  beloved  sister  into 
his  house  with  more  delicacy  and  kindness 


THE   YOUXG   BALLAD    SINGER.  119 

than  was  shown  by  M.  de  Sannois  towards 
his  unfortunate  relation. 

The  very  same  day  even  he  began  to  take 
the  necessary  Steps  to  procure  the  erasure  of 
Madame  de  Kostain's  name  from  the  list  of 
the  proscribed,  and  the  restoration  of  a  por- 
tion of  her  fortune. 

"  All  looked  well,"  he  said,  "  for  the  suc- 
cess of  the  undertaking  ;  "  and  hope  and  joy 
being  thus  restored  to  the  heart  of  the  poor 
mother,  her  health  began  also  to  revive. 

For  the  first  two  or  three  days,  however, 
M.  de  Sannois  did  not  speak  of  introducing 
his  son ;  but  at  length,  finding  Madame  de 
Rostain  much  better,  he  asked  her  permission 
to  present  Gustavus  de  Sannois,  who  very 
much  wished  to  become  acquainted  with  his 
cousins. 

"  Though  young  and  a  soldier, "he  added, 
"  Gustavus  is  prudent  and  discreet,  and  I 
have  therefore  thought  it  best  to  tell  him 
everything,  the  more  so  that  I  chiefly  reckon 
upon  his  assistance  in  obtaining  what  we 
want  from  the  ministers." 


320  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

After  this  explanation,  M.  de  Sannois,  the 
same  evening,  introduced  his  son  in  Madame 
de  Rostain's  apartment.  To  a  very  agree- 
able countenance  Gustavus  united  a  noble 
and  elegant  figure.  It  required  but  a  very 
little  time  to  ensure  for  him  the  good-will  of 
Madame  de  Rostain  and  her  daughters,  to- 

O  * 

wards  whom  he  exhibited  from  the  first  more 
friendship  than  could  have  been  expected 
from  a  relation  till  then  unknown. 

He  regarded  Madame  de  Rostain  or  Dupre 
with  a  look  of  extreme  interest,  and  more 
than  once  he  turned  the  conversation  upon 
the  obscure  retreat  where  she  had  summoned 
up  courage  to  live  so  long. 

"  It  was  my  daughter  who  found  courage 
for  us  all,"  said  Madame  de  Rostain,  point- 
ing to  Leontine.  "  But  for  her  assistance, 
during  the  past  year,  I  could  not  have 
lived." 

Then,  while  Leontine  looked  down  in  con- 
fusion, Juliet  repeated  in  full  detail  all 
that  her  good  sister  had  done  for  their  little 
household. 


THE   YOUXO   BALLAD   SINGER.  121 

"Enough,    enough,  Juliet!"  said   Leon 
tine  ;  "  all  that  was  so  simple  that  it  is  not 
worth  mentioning." 

By  degrees  the  scrutinizing  looks  of  Gus- 
tavus  were  transferred  from  Madame  de 
Eostain  to  Leontine. 

"  Could  it  have  been  her  who  sung  upon 
the  boulevard  to  support  them  ?  "  he  said  to 
himself  with  indescribable  emotion. 

He  was  very  soon  convinced  of  it,  when 
Madame  de  Rostain  spoke  of  the  period  dur- 
ing which  she  had  been  unable  to  leave  her 
chamber. 

After  the  first  evening  Gustavus  went 
every  day  to  spend  some  hours  writh  his 
cousins.  The  more  he  became  acquainted 
with  the  virtue,  intelligence,  and  good  sense 
of  Leontine,  the  better  he  was  able  to  com- 
prehend, and  very  soon  to  partake  in  the 
tender  enthusiasm  with  which  she  inspired 
her  mother  and  sister. 

He  waited  with  a  lively  impatience  for 
the  hour  in  which  he  might  visit  Madame  de 
Rostain's  apartments,  and  to  tell  the  truth, 


l'2'2  A    BOOK    FOR   GIRLS. 

Leontine,  on  her  part,  looked  very  often  tit 
the  clock. 

One  evening  the  conversation  turned  upon 
music,  and  for  the  first  time  Gustavus  ven- 
tured to  ask  Leontine  whether  she  sung,  a 
question  which  he  had  hitherto  refrained 
from,  without  being  able  to  explain  to  him- 
self exactly  why. 

"  Certainly  she  sings,"  replied  Madame  de 
Rostain,  "and  she  sings  well,  too;  for  she 
had  first-rate  lessons  in  Italy.  Leontine, 
my  love,"  she  added,  "  take  your  guitar  and 
sing  us  something." 

Since  the  last  Thursda}r  that  poor  Leon- 
tine  had  sung  upon  the  boulevard,  she  had 
not  touched  her  music,  and  the  request  of 
her  mother  confused  her  so  much  that  she 
blushed  deeply.  Nevertheless,  being  appre- 
hensive of  exciting  any  suspicion,  she  en- 
deavored to  overcome  her  embarrassment, 
and  rising  with  trembling  limbs  she  fetched 
her  guitar. 

"  What  shall  I  sing?"  she  asked. 

Gustavus    then    softly    approached    her. 


THE    YOUXG   BALLAD   SINGER.  123 

*'  The  romance  of  Nina,"  he  said  in  a  low 
voice. 

The  guitar  fell  from  Leontine's  hands  as 
she  exclaimed,  "It  was  you,  then, — oh, 
yes,  it  was  you  !  " 

It  became  necessary  then  to  explain  the 
whole  story  to  Madame  de  Rostain,  and  the 
emotion  she  experienced  may  easily  be 
imagined. 

"God  will  bless  you,  my  child!"  she 
said,  covering  the  brow  of  her  daughter  with 
kisses  and  tears. 

The  next  morning  M.  de  Sannois  came  to 
solicit  the  hand  of  Leontine  for  his  son. 

'.'  What  do  you  say,  my  friend  ?  "  answered 
Madame  de  Rostain,  scarce  able  to  conceal 
her  joy.  "  Do  you  remember  that  you  are 
a  millionaire,  and  that  I  have  nothing?' 

"I  have  thou<fht  of  everything,"  replied 
M.  de  Sannois,  "  and  if  our  children  have  a 
family,  Gustavus  can  leave  them  a  hundred 
thousand  livres  of  rent,  and  our  dear  Leon- 
tine  can  leave  them  her  guitar." 


1ADAME    DE    G- 


-,   a   well-known 

Parisian  lady,  some  years  before  the 
Revolution,  undertook  a  journey  to  the  foot 
of  the  Pyrenees,  of  which  she  has  left  an 
interesting  account.  The  story,  as  we  give 
it,  is  entirely  authentic. 

After  crossing  a  part  of  the  southern 
provinces  of  France,  she  reached  the  foot  of 
that  immense  chain  of  mountains,  so  ridgy 
and  picturesque,  which  separates  that  country 
from  Spain.  She  took  up  her  abode  in  a 
charming  solitude,  at  a  little  distance  from 

125 


126  A    BOOK    FOR   GIRLS. 

the  valley  of  Campan,  and  hired  a  small 
cottage,  where  she  proposed  to  pass  the  sum- 
mer. Her  little  dwelling,  situated  on  the 
declivity  of  a  mountain  covered  with  trees, 
plants,  and  herbage,  was  encircled  with  rocks 
and  numerous  springs.  From  thence  it 
looked  down  upon  a  vast  plain,  intersected 
with  canals  formed  by  the  torrents  which 
precipitate  themselves  from  the  sides  of  the 
mountains.  The  neighborhood  was  inhab- 
ited only  by  husbandmen  and  shepherds. 

In  this  peaceful   retreat  Madame  de  G 

heard  no  other  sounds  but  the  majestic  voice 
of  nature,  the  rapid  and  imposing  fall  of 
cascades,  the  lowing  of  herds  scattered  over 
the  meadows,  the  rustic  tones  of  the  flageo- 
let, and  the  rural  airs  which  the  young  shep- 
herds sing  while  seated  on  the  ridges  of  the 
mountains. 

She  spent  the  greater  part  of  her  time  in 
walking  through  this  beautiful  country.  She 
first  traversed  all  the  mountains  within  her 
reach.  There  she  often  met  with  flocks 
tended  by  children,  or  youths  of  perhaps 


THE    MYSTERIOUS   BENEFACTOR.          127 

fifteen  years  of  age,  and  she  remarked  that 
the  latter  always  occupied  the  highest  parts 
of  the  mountains,  while  the  younger  chil- 
dren, who  could  not  yet  climb  the  steep  and 
slippery  rocks,  guarded  their  Hocks  in  pas- 
tures of  more  easy  access.  In  proportion 
as  she  descended  the  mountains,  she  observed 
the  shepherds  decrease  in  stature  and  years  ; 
so  much  so,  that  on  the  little  hills  which 
bordered  the  plains  she  only  met  with  little 
shepherds  of  eight  or  nine  years  old. 
Curious  to  know  the  reason  of  this  gradation, 

Madame  de  G interrogated  one  of  these 

children. 

"  Do  you  not  sometimes  drive  your  goats 
into  the  plains?"  she  said. 

"  I  shall  go  some  day,  madame,''  he  re- 
plied, smiling  ;  "  but  a  long  time  will  elapse 
before  that,  for  I  must  travel  a  long  way." 

"How?" 

«'  I  must  first  go  to  the  top  of  the  moun- 
tains, after  that  I  shall  work  with  my  father, 
and  then  in  sixty  years  I  shall  go  down  into 
the  valley." 


128  A    BOOK  FOR   GIRLS. 

"What!  are  the  shepherds  in  the  mead- 
ows all  old  men  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  our  elder  brothers  are  on  the  tops 
of  the  mountains,  and  our  grandfathers  in 
the  plains." 

Madame  de  G then  left  the  child,  and 

descended  into  the  beautiful  and  fertile  val- 
ley of  Campan,  so  well  known  to  travellers. 
It  has  often  been  celebrated,  and  well  de- 
serves to  l)e  so.  We  shall  endeavor  to  give 
an  idea  of  it. 

Let  the  reader  figure  to  himself  houses 
scattered  here  and  there,  each  surrounded 
by  its  meadow,  with  a  garden  attached  to  it, 
and  shaded  by  clumps  of  trees.  These 
dwellings,  spread  over  the  valley,  had  grad- 
ually formed,  as  it  were,  accidentally,  rich 
and  populous  villages.  The  landscape  is  em- 
bellished by  the  graceful  windings  of  the 
Adour,  a  river  of  a  quick  and  impetuous 
current,  and  whose  waves,  ruffled  by  a  gentle 
breeze,  softly  caress  the  verdant  banks  of 
the  stream.  The  cheerful  frolics  of  the 
herds,  and  the  air  of  content  imprinted  on 


THE    MYSTERIOUS    BENEFACTOR.          129 

the  countenances  of  the  shepherds,  make 
the  traveller  long  to  take  up  his  abode  in 
this  delicious  spot.  The  valley  consists  of 
two  lesser  dales,  one  of  which  descends  by 
Tourmale,  and  the  other  by  mountains  of  the 
valley  of  Aure.  Here  we  percieve  the 
charming  village  of  Bagneres,  so  famous  for 
its  mineral  waters,  and  whither  invalids  re- 
sort twice  in  the  year  for  the  recovery  of 
their  health. 

It  was  this  beautiful  country  that  Madame 

de  G explored.     In  one   of  her  walks 

she  found  herself  near  a  cottage  half  con- 
sumed by  fire,  and  of  which  the  roofless  and 
blackened  walls  presented  a  sad  contrast  with- 
the  smiling  prospect  around. 

No  living  being  appeared  near.  The  trees 
which  had  hitherto  lent  their  pleasant  shade 
to  the  unfortunate  inmates  of  this  little  do- 
main, were  entirely  stripped  of  their  foliage  ; 
the  flames  had  not  spared  them,  neither  had 
it  the  grass  of  the  meadow,  which  was  also 
entirely  burnt  up.  At  this  melancholy 
spectacle,  Madame  de  G felt  her  heart 


130  A   BOOK  FOR   GIRLS. 

oppressed,  and  sincerely  commiserated  the 
poor  family  which  this  disastrous  event  had 
driven  from  their  parental  home.  She  wished 
she  could  meet  with  one  of  them,  in  order 
to  testify  her  compassion,  and  to  leave  them 
a  trifling  mark  of  the  interest  which  she  felt 
in  their  painful  situation. 

She  had  not  walked  many  steps  before 
she  saw  a  young  girl  employing  herself  in 
spinning,  whilst  at  the  same  time  she  tended 
a  dozen  goats  which  were  browsing  around 
her.  The  young  shepherdess  was  seated  at 
the  foot  of  a  mountain,  cut  down  perpendic- 
ularly at  that  spot,  and  covered  with  moss 
and  herbage.  An  enormous  mass  of  rocks, 
placed  directly  above  her  at  an  elevation  of 
a  hundred  feet,  projected  from  the  mountain, 
and  formed  a  sort  of  rustic  canopy.  These 
rocks  were  covered  with  natural  garlands  of 
ivy,  periwinkle,  and  bindweed,  which  fell  on 
all  sides  in  thick  tufts  and  irregular  festoons, 
beautifully  grouped  together  with  all  the 
elegance  and  profusion  of  nature.  At  the 
distance  of  a  few  paces  from  the  shepherdess 


THE   MYSTERIOUS   BENEFACTOR.          131 

were  seen  two  weeping  willows  bending 
towards  each  other,  mingling  their  pliant 
branches,  and.  casting  their  shade  over  a 
stream  which  glided  down  the  mountain-side. 
The  water,  foaming  as  it  flowed  impetuously 
from  its  source,  precipitated  itself  from  the 
brow  of  the  mountain  over  every  obstacle 
that  opposed  its  course ;  then  babbling  on- 
ward, it  softly  stole  along  a  bed  of  fruitful 
herbage  and  flowers,  and  gliding  by  the  foot 
of  the  youthful  spinner,  was  at  length  lost  in 
a  gentle  murmur  at  the  bottom  of  the  valley. 

A  melancholy  sadness  was  imprinted  on 
the  features  of  the  young  shepherdess,  and 
the  sombre  tranquility  of  her  countenance 
betokened  some  recent  sorrow.  Madame  de 

G advanced  close  to  her,  and  asked  her 

a  few  insignificant  questions  by  way  of  com- 
mencing a  conversation.  The  young  girl 
rose  up,  and  replied  to  her,  using  all  the 
expressions  of  politeness  which  she  could 
command,  but  still  wearing  the  same  dejected 
look  as  at  first. 

"My  child,"  said  Madame  de  G to 


132  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

her,  as  she  sat  down  beside  her,  "I  have 
just  seen  a  little  way  off  the  remains  of  a 
house  which  has  been  consumed  by  fire.  If 
I  am  not  mistaken,  it  is  not  long  since  this 
accident  happened.  It  must  have  been  a 
pretty  place,  judging  from  the  picturesque 
appearance  of  the  remains." 

"Ah,  madarne ! "  said  the  young  girl, 
while  the  tears  ran  rapidly  down  her  cheeks  ; 
"  yes,  indeed,  our  house  was  very  pretty, 
very  convenient,  very  pleasant ;  but,  alas  ! 
now  —  " 

"  How,  my  dear,  did  this  cottage,  then, 
belong  to  you?  How  sorry  I  am  that  I 
spoke  of  it !  " 

"  It  is  no  matter,  my  good  lady,  whether 
you  spoke  of  it  or  not ;  that  will  not  change 
our  disaster.  Judge  whether  I  ought  not 
to  have  been  happy  there.  I  was  born  in 
that  house  ;  my  grandfather,  my  father  and 
mother,  my  brother  and  sisters,  and  all  our 
family  lived  there,  united  in  the  midst  of 
peace  and  happiness.  Now  we  are  all  dis- 
persed—  obliged  to  beg  an  asylum,  which  is 


THE    MYSTERIOUS    BENEFACTOR.          133 

not  always  granted  to  us.  We  have  nothing 
left  but  a  few  acres  of  land  and  those  goats 
you  see  browsing  around  me.  Alas  !  what 
a  terrible  misfortune,  above  all,  for  my  poor 
grandfather,  who  is  so  very  old,  and  almost 
blind  !  " 

"  Did  your  grandfather,  then,  live  with 
you  ?  "  said  Madame  de  G . 

"Yes,  madame ;  he  has  been  a  widower 
for  three  years,  and  feeling  his  strength  de- 
cline from  day  to  day,  it  was  natural  for  him 
to  retire  from  the  labor  of  the  fields.  He 
had  quitted  the  class  of  laborers,  and  had 
humbly  resumed  his  shepherd's  crook  and 
scrip.  In  these  meadows  he  had  hoped  to 
spend  quietly  the  remainder  of  his  days,  but 
Heaven  has  ordained  otherwise.  Poor  grand- 
papa !  " 

"  Where  is  he,  then,  now?" 

"He  is  at  the  house  of  one  of  our  rela- 
tions who  is  well  off,  but  he  cannot  remain 
there  long.  Relationship  is  not  always  a 
reason  for  hospitality,  and  in  a  few  days  he 
will  be  obliged  to  seek  another  home.  Alas  ! 


134  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

it  is  painful  for  an  aged  man  who  has  worked 
hard  all  his  life  to  be  forced  to  wander  thus, 
without  a  stone  to  lay  his  head  upon.  But 
even,  madame,  if  grandpapa  should  find  a 
home,  he  will  want  something  more  to  make 
him  happy  ;  he  will  not  have  his  little  grand- 
daughter Lina  to  take  care  of  him,  to  antici- 
pate his  wants,  and  to  help  him  to  tend  his 
flock.  Poor  grandpapa,  what  an  unhappy 
old  age  is  reserved  for  him  !  He  is  so  good 
and  so  virtuous  !  " 

"My  child,  are  not  your  father  and 
mother  as  unfortunate  as  he  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  and  yet  no.  Yes,  because  it  is  as 
painful  to  them  to  see  the  work  of  their 
hands  destroyed ;  and  no,  because  they  are 
yet  young  and  robust,  and  can  by  time  and 
patience  regain  what  they  have  lost.  But 
grandpapa  is  eighty  years  old.  Happiness 
can  never  return  to  him." 

"  But  by  what  unfortunate  accident  was 
your  house  burnt  ?  Surely  there  is  plenty 
of  water  here,  and  assistance  could  not  have 
been  wanting." 


THE    MYSTERIOUS    BENEFACTOR.  135 

"  Oh,  my  good  lady  !  it  was  burnt  by  one 
more  powerful  than  man.  Lightning  struck 
our  little  cottage,  and  in  a  few  moments 
all  our  little  property  had  disappeared,  — 
house,  crop,  and  cattle  ;  and  it  was  no  less 
than  a  miracle  that  we  escaped  the  same 
fate.  It  was  by  the  will  of  God  that  it  was 
done  ;  but  people  say  He  only  punishes  the 
wicked  ;  why  then  —  " 

"Yes,  my  child,  it  is  true  He  punishes  the 
wicked,  but  He  sometimes  tries  the  just, 
and  on  that  account  it  is  right  to  say  to  our 
heavenly  Father,  '  Thy  will  be  done.'  The 
triumph  of  a  good  man  over  adversity  is 
that  very  resignation  which  becomes  a  Chris- 
tian, and  which,  if  properly  borne,  will 
conduce  to  his  future  reward." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  I  know  this  well  by  the  ex- 
ample of  my  father  and  mother,  my  brothers 
and  sisters.  They  are,  however,  well  and 
strong,  and  able  to  work,  and  they  will 
always  find  employment.  I  know  also  by 
myself,  madame,  for  I  was  going  very  soon 
to  marry  a  young  man  in  this  valley,  who  I 


A    BOOK   FOR    GIRLS. 


am  sure  would  have  made  me  happy.  Now, 
I  have  nothing  left,  and  it  cannot  take  place  ; 
but  I  am  resigned  —  all  has  no  doubt  hap- 
pened for  the  best.  I  do  not  say  that  I  am 
not  sorry ;  but  I  am  sensible  at  the  same 
time  that  God  will  give  me  grace  to  support 
this  sacrifice.  But  with  regard  to  my  grand- 
father, he  is  so  infirm  and  so  near  the  brink 
of  the  grave,  how  can  he  support  the  exile 
to  which  he  seems  condemned  ?  " 

"  Have  confidence,  my  good  girl ;  God  is 
good.  We  cannot  penetrate  into  the  secrets 
of  his  providence.  Perhaps  the  time  is  not 
far  distant  when  you  will  be  recompensed 
for  all  that  you  have  suffered." 

"  My  good  lady,  I  accept  the  hopes  which 
you  give  me,  and  I  thank  you  for  your  con- 
solations." 

"Have  you  not  yourself,  my  child,  some 
means  of  assisting  your  grandfather  ?  Could 
you  not  occupy  yourself,  for  instance,  in 
some  kind  of  industry  which  would  help  to 
procure  him  the  succor  which  he  requires  ?  " 

"  Oh,  if  I  only  knew  how  to  sing  a  littb, 


THE    MYSTERIOUS    BENEFACTOR.  137 

I  should  not  be  troubled  about  that !  This 
is  the  season  when  so  many  fine  ladies  and 
gentlemen  from  the  court  and  the  town  come 
to  drink  the  waters.  I  would  go  every 
evening  and  take  my  place  at  the  end  of  one 
of  the  promenades  of  Bagneres,  and  by 
singing  for  a  couple  of  hours  I  should  earn 
sufficient,  and  more  than  sufficient,  for  the 
support  of  my  grandfather.  But  what  is  the 
use  of  talking  about  it?  I  cannot  even  sing 
a  single  song." 

*'  Then  you  really  think,  my  child,  that 
by  this  means  you  could  collect  a  little 
money  ?  You  are  quite  right,  however ;  I 
did  not  think  of  it.  But  an  idea  now  occurs 
to  me,  and  I  will  put  it  into  execution. 
Comfort  yourself;  I  hope  to  be  able  soon  to 
better  your  circumstances  ;  only  just  tell  me 
which  is  the  best  spot  at  Bagneres  for  a 
singer  to  attract  a  concourse  of  hearers." 

"It  is  not  difficult  to  find  a  good  place ; 
I  can  even  see  one  from  here.  At  a  little 
distance  from  where  they  assemble  to  drink 
the  waters,  there  is  a  terrace  planted  with 


138  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

willows,  whither  the  company  resort  to 
enjoy  the  coolness  of  the  evening.  I  would 
take  up  my  station  there,  if  only  I  were  able 
to  sing." 

"Well,  well,"  replied  Madame  de  G , 

quite  affected,  "I  know  of  some  one  who 
can  sing  a  little,  and  whom  I  will  engage  to 
sing  for  you  at  Bagneres.  Here,"  she  said, 
"  in  the  meanwhile,"  as  she  placed  some 
pieces  of  money  in  her  hand,  "  is  a  trifle  to 
meet  your  present  wants." 

The  little  shepherdess  thanked  her,  shed- 
ding tears  of  gratitude. 

"  Will  you  be  here  every  day,  my  child  !  " 

"  Yes,  madame,  I  shall  be  here  every  day, 
from  morning  till  night,  spinning  and  guard- 
ing my  sheep,  unless  one  of  our  family  be  ill." 

"Well,  in  a  fortnight  I  shall  come  and 
see  you  to  tell  you  the  result  of  our  at- 
tempt ;  until  then  do  not  be  uneasy  about 
your  grandfather,  for  I  think  I  can  promise 
you  that  the  future  will  recompense  you  for 
your  present  distress.  Adieu,  my  child, 
adieu  !  I  am  happy  to  have  met  with  you." 


THE   MYSTERIOUS    BENEFACTOR.          139 

"  Oh,  it  is  I,  ma'am,  who  ought  to  be 
happy  ! "  said  Lina,  as  she  kissed  her  hands 
a  thousand  times,  and  watered  them  with 
her  tears. 

They  parted,  and  Madame  de  G pro- 
ceeded on  her  way  home,  repeating  more 
than  once  to  herself,  "  Happy  patriarchal 
country  !  If  felicity  exists  on  earth,  these 
are  the  manners  and  these  the  sentiments 
which  will  assure  us  of  its  existence.  How 
happy  shall  I  be,  if  my  intentions  on  behalf 
of  the  interesting  Lina  and  her  family  can 
be  realized  !  " 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE    SIXGER   OF   BAGXERES. 

OME  days  after  this  a  report  was  cir- 
culated in  Bagnercs  that  a  musician, 
who  played  on  the  harp  to  perfection  and 
sung  charmingly,  came  regularly  every  even- 
ing to  give  the  most  delightful  serenades 
under  the  avenue  of  willow-trees.  Nothing 
was  spoken  of  at  the  waters  but  the  wonder- 
ful musician,  the  exquisite  taste  she  dis- 
played in  her  execution,  and  the  admirable 
expression  which  she  gave  to  her  songs. 
The  applause  was  unanimous,  and  it  was  the 
opinion  of  every  one  that  such  unequalled 
talent  would  better  grace  the  musical  saloons 
of  the  metropolis  than  a  public  promenade 

140 


THE   MYSTERIOUS   BENEFACTOR.          141 

at  a  watering-place.  Those  who  had  not 
yet  heard  the  delightful  strains  of  the  new 
singer  crowded  to  the  promenade,  and  those 
who  had  heard  her  once  wished  to  listen  to 
her  as  often  as  they  could,  while  the  varied 
repertory  of  the  skilful  musician  furnished 
a  new  attraction  to  Bagneres,  and  added 
infinitely  to  the  number  of  the  visitors. 

As  soon  as  evening  arrived,  the  preludes 
of  the  mysterious  songstress  were  heard,  and 
then  were  suddenly  to  be  seen  groups  of 
listeners  hastening  from  all  the  different 
walks  that  led  to  the  avenue  of  the  W'illows, 
and  grouping  round  the  spot  which  she  had 
chosen  for  her  performance.  The  singer, 
plainly  dressed,  and  with  a  veil  thrown  over 
her  face  to  conceal  her  features,  leaned  with 
her  back  against  a  favorite  tree.  At  a  short 
distance  in  front  was  placed  a  capacious 
purse  to  tempt  the  generosity  of  listeners, 
upon  which  a  little  lantern,  which  stood  be- 
side it,  threw  its  flickering  light. 

It  may  naturally  be  supposed  that  the 
mysterious  circumstances  accompanying  the 


142  A   BOOK  FOR   GIRLS. 

musician,  — and  especially  the  unusual  talent 
which  she  displayed, — would  excite  the 
liveliest  curiosity,  and  become  subjects  of 
general  conjecture  among  the  company. 
Sometimes  people  would  follow  her  as  she 
was  returning  home,  in  order  to  ascertain 
her  place  of  residence  and  her  name.  But 
the  strict  incognito  she  preserved  was  proof 
against  the  closest  scrutiny,  and  all  their  in- 
quiries were  in  vain. 

Sometimes  it  happened  that  the  remarks 
of  fashionable  persons  from  the  court  were 
heard  amidst  the  loud  plaudits  of  the  audi- 
ence. "How  fine  is  her  style  of  singing! 
how  perfect  her  execution  !  We  can  only 

compare  this  amateur  to  Madame  de  Gr , 

and  we  could  almost  swear  that  she  was  that 
lady  herself,  if  we  were  not  sure  that  she 
was  not  at  Bagneres.  Her  style,  her  taste, 
and  her  modulation  are  the  same." 

In  the  meantime,  such  was  the  delight  with 
which  these  musical  performances  were  re- 
ceived, and  so  captivated  were  the  hearers 
of  all  ranks  and  of  all  tastes,  that  the  money 


THE   MYSTERIOUS   BENEFACTOR.          143 

continued  to.  flow  abundantly  into  the  open 
purse :  the  best  evidence  at  once  of  the 
satisfaction  and  the  generosity  of  the 
visitors. 

This  was,  of  course,  the  chief  object  the 
musician  had  in  view.  Generally  her  per- 
formances lasted  an  hour,  after  which  the 
young  harpist  would  lift  the  purse  from  the 
ground,  take  her  instrument  on  her  shoulder, 
her  lantern  in  her  hand,  and  without  raising 
her  veil  make  a  graceful  bow  to  the  company, 
and  retire  amidst  repeated  applauses. 

As  soon  as  the  fifteen  days  had  elapsed, 
Madame  de  G hastened  with  the  fort- 
night's receipts  to  the  rock,  which  served  for 
shelter  to  the  artless  Lina,  and  found  her 
seated  in  the  same  spot  as  at  the  first  inter- 
view. 

"Here,  here  !  " exclaimed  she,  "take  cour- 
age, Lina.  Heaven  has  not  abandoned  you. 
The  person  of  whom  I  spoke  to  you  has  suc- 
ceeded beyond  my  hopes.  Here  are  eight 
hundred  and  fifty-five  francs,  the  product  of 
the  fortnight's  performance.  You  see,  my 


144  A   BOOK  FOR   GIRLS. 

child,  that  God  never  forsakes  those  who 
confide  in  him." 

"Oh,  what  a  deal  of  money!"  replied 
Lina,  lost  in  surprise  and  gratitude.  "  Oh, 
how  happy  should  I  be  to  go  and  embrace 
the  knees  of  that  charitable  person  who  has 
thus  labored  for  our  happiness  !  " 

"  We  will  think  of  that,  by  and  by,  my 
dear  Lina  ;  at  present  let  us  attend  to  what 
is  most  pressing.  In  the  first  place,  you 
must  give  this  money  to  your  father,  to  en- 
able him  to  repair  your  cottage.  No  time  is 
to  be  lost  while  the  weather  is  fine." 

"Oh,  how  pleased  we  shall  all  be  ! "  replied 
Lina  joyfully.  "  We  shall  be  happy  again, 
thanks  to  your  goodness,  and  also  to  that  of 
the  person  who, — " 

' '  In  another  fortnight  I  shall  see  you  again, 
and  I  hope  that  the  receipts  will  not  fall  short 
of  this  day's  amount.  One  or  two  more  fort- 
nights such  as  this,  and  your  misfortunes  will 
be  quite  repaired." 

"  Oh,  yes,  my  good  lady  !  Excuse  me  ; 
I  have  not  recovered  from  my  surprise.  It 


THE    MYSTERIOUS    BENEFACTOR.  145 

seems  like  a  dream.  I  cannot  believe  so 
much  happiness  possible." 

' '  Calm  yourself,  my  child ;  we  must  in 
this  life  know*  how  to  bear  joy  with  as  much 
moderation  as  grief.  But,  above  all,  seek 
your  father,  and  let  him  neglect  nothing  to 
hasten  on  the  work." 

"Oh,  yes,  ma'am;  we  shall  all  help,  and 
very  soon  we  shall  have  finished  the  repairs  ! 
You  will  see,  ma'am,  you  will  see  at  the  end 
of  the  fortnight,  when  you  return,  how  much 
we  have  done." 

As  Lina  finished  these  words,  they  heard 
in  the  distance  the  sounds  of  a  rustic  flageo- 
let issuing  from  the  summit  of  the  mountain 
which  overlooked  the  rock.  Madame  de 
G listened. 

"Ah,"  said  Lina,  smiling,  "  it  is  Tobias, 
who  is  on  the  rock  !  he  is  playing  my  favor- 
ite air." 

Saying  these  words,  she  beat  time  to  the 
measure,  and  gladness  sparkled  in  her  eyes. 

"It  is  my  brother  who  tends  the  flocks  of 
one  of  our  neighbors,  as  he  has  none  to  watch 


14G  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

over  of  our  own.  I  will  go  and  tell  him  that 
soon,  if  it  please  God,  his  condition  will  be 
changed." 

It  was  the  hour  of  repast, — the  hour  at 
which  the  young  peasant-girls  were  accus- 
tomed to  bring  the  herdsmen  their  provisions. 
In  the  distance,  on  the  other  side  of  the  val- 
ley, might  be  seen  a  troop  of  young  girls 
slowly  approaching,  and  dispersing  them- 
selves over  the  plains,  while  at  the  same 
moment  the  shepherds  began  to  assemble  on 
the  heights,  and  to  appear  along  the  steep 
edges  of  the  mountains.  Some,  leaning  for- 
ward over  the  edge  of  the  precipices,  seemed 
every  moment,  to  those  below,  as  if  they 
would  cause  the  ground  to  slip  from  under 
their  feet ;  others  had  climbed  to  the  tops  of 
the  trees,  to  descry  from  afar  the  joyous 
band,  which  was  expected  every  day  at  the 
appointed  hour.  The  flocks,  left  at  this 
time  to  themselves,  were  allowed  to  wander 
as  they  pleased.  Everything  was  in  motion 
on  the  mountains  and  in  the  plains.  The 
village  girls  separated  from  each  other,  and 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  BENEFACTOR.    147 

ran  to  seek  their  grandfathers,  in  order  to 
carry  to  them  the  supply  of  fruit  and  cheese 
which  they'  had  brought  in  their  pretty 
wicker-baskets ;  and  the  old  men  might  be 
seen  eagerly  holding  out  their  arms  to  receive 
them.  Madame  de  G stood  still  to  en- 
joy this  charming  sight. 

After  staying  several  hours,  and  contem- 
plating with  emotion  this  animated  and  in- 
teresting scene,  she  took  leave  of  Lina,  not 
without  again  repeating  to  her  what  she  had 
said  about  the  repairs  of  the  house. 

We  shall  pass  over  in  silence  the  trans- 
porting joy  of  the  whole  family  when  Lina 
delivered  to  her  father  the  money  which  she 
had  received,  and  related  to  him  "all  the  par- 
ticulars of  her  happy  meeting  with  the  gen- 
erous unknown. 

They  immediately  set  to  work  in  good 
earnest  with  the  repairs  of  the  dilapidated 
house.  Workmen  were  put  in  requisition, 
and  the  traces  of  the  damage  had  almost  dis- 
appeared, under  their  united  efforts,  before 
the  expiration  of  the  fortnight  agreed  upon. 


148  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

When  Madame  de  G returned,  and 

brought  to  Lma  the  amount  of  her  earnings, 
which  was  more  considerable  than  the  first, 
she  was  agreeably  surprised  to  see  in  place 
of  blackened  walls,  discolored  beams,  and 
smoke-covered  ruins,  a  pretty  little  cottage, 
with  a  smiling  exterior,  and  a  tastefully- 
arranged  rural  approach.  There  remained 
only  now  the  roof  to  be  finished ;  and  the 
activity  of  the  workmen  showed  that  all 
would  be  completed  in  a  few  days. 

Madame  de  G then  made  the  acquain- 
tance of  this  family,  in  whose  welfare  she 
had  felt  so  deep  an  interest ;  and  the  grate- 
ful Lina  was  delighted  to  introduce  to  her,  as 
their  benefactress,  all  her  relations  —  her 
father,  mother,  sisters,  and  brothers.  These 
worthy  people  bore  on  their  countenances  the 
character  of  honesty  and  truth,  and  all  ex- 
pressed their  obligations  with  the  most  touch- 
ing marks  of  affection.  Lina  also  conducted 

Madame  de  G to  her  grandfather.  The 

old  man  was  seated  on  a  large  arm-chair, 
which  had  just  been  purchased  expressly  for 


THE    MYSTERIOUS   BENEFACTOR.          149 

his  use.  His  appearance  was  calm  and  dig- 
nified ;  his  hair,  of  dazzling  whiteness,  fell 
in  silvery  locks  on  his  broad  shoulders ; 
candor  and  goodness  shone  in  his  aged, 
features,  and  his  serene  countenance  reflected 
the  unalterable  tranquillity  of  his  soul.  Lina, 
taking  him  affectionately  by  the  hand,  said, 
"Good  papa,  this  is  the  benevolent  lady 
who  has  come  to  see  you." 

"  Ah,  madame  !  "  said  the  old  man,  rising 
with  difficulty,  "  permit  me  to  greet  you  as 
the  saviour  of  our  house.  How  grateful  I 
feel  for  your  kindness  to  my  children  !  As 
for  me,  I  shall  carry  a  sweet  remembrance 
of  what  you  have  done  for  us  into  the  other 
world." 

"  My  good  old  friend,  I  still  hope  to  see 
you  here  a  few  years  hence,"  replied  Madame 
de  G ,  "  when  I  intend,  if  nothing  pre- 
vents, to  revisit  this  delightful  country." 

"  I  trust  }*ou  may,  madame,"  replied  the 
old  man;  "for  I  am  truly  happy  in  the 
midst  of  my  children  and  grandchildren. 
But  I  am  old,  and  God's  will  be  done  !" 


150  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

Not  wishing  to  detain  these  worthy  peo- 
ple longer,  Madame  de  G shortened  her 

visit,  which  she  would  otherwise  willingly 
have  prolonged,  so  much  pleasure  did  she 
derive  from  the  contemplation  of  their  patri- 
archal virtues.  She  then  handed  to  Lina's 
father  the  amount  of  her  last  receipts,  who 
was  amazed  at  the  sight  of  so  many  gold 
pieces,  and  exclaimed  in  his  joy,  "Really, 
madame,  I  think  you  are  about  to  make 
me  richer  than  I  was  before  !  " 

"  Well,"  replied  Madame  de  G ,  "  so 

much  the  better ;  you  will  be  able  the  more 
easily  to  marry  your  good  Lina,  to  whom  I 
am  happy  to  have  been  of  some  little  use." 

Saying  these  words,  Madame  de  G 

left  the  house,  and  continued  her  walk  on 
the  mountains,  in  order  to  give  herself  up  to 
the  double  charm  of  the  contemplation  of 
nature  and  meditation.  Every  evening  she 
continued  to  take  her  place  under  the  ac- 
customed tree  ;  every  evening  she  excited 
the  same  admiration ;  every  evening  she 
never  failed  to  receive  considerable  contribu- 


THE    MYSTERIOUS    BENEFACTOR.  151 

tions.  lu  spite  of  the  lively  curiosity  which 
attached  itself  to  her  person,  nobody  suc- 
ceeded in  penetrating  her  secret ;  no  one,  in 
fact,  had  known  anything  of  her  journey  to 
the  Pyrenees,  and  no  one,  therefore  detected 
the  well-known  Madame  de  G — —  in  the 
mysterious  singer  of  Bagneres.  One  even- 
ing, however,  when  she  had  just  lifted  her 
purse  from  the  ground,  and  was  on  the  point 
of  taking  her  harp  on  her  shoulders  to  re- 
tire, eight  or  ten  village  girls  and  boys 
suddenly  breaking  through  the  crowd,  sur- 
rounded her,  one  exclaiming,  "  You  have 
saved  us  from  our  misery  !  "  ' '  We  owe  every- 
thing to  you  !"  cried  another.  "Madame, 
here  is  Lina,  who  wished  to  hear  you,"  said 
a  young  girl  in  a  tone  of  emotion.  "  Par- 
don her  the  liberty  ;  it  was  so  natural." 

Madame  do  G was  not  prepared  for 

this  outburst  of  gratitude,  and  she  was  for  u 
moment  disconcerted,  as  she  perceived  all 
the  people  approaching  her  to  know  what 
was  the  matter.  Speedily  recovering  her 
presence  of  mind,  however,  she  said,  "You 


152  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

must  make  a  mistake,  my  friends  ;  I  do  not 
know  what  you  want.  You  cannot  know 
me,  for  I  am  quite  a  stranger  in  this  coun- 
try." 

"But,  nevertheless,"  replied  Lina,  "I 
assure  you — " 

* '  Undoubtedly  some  resemblance  has  given 
occasion  to  this  mistake." 

But  Madame  do  G finding  these  words 

insufficient  to  calm  the  tumult  of  emotion, 
bent  down  towards  Lina,  and  whispered  in 
her  ear,  "  I  beg  of  you,  my  child,  return 
with  your  companions.  This  scene  would 
be  infinitely  distressing  to  me,  were  it  pro- 
longed. I  wish  to  remain  quite  unknown  to 
these  ladies  and  gentlemen.  If  you  do 
what  I  ask  you,  you  will  oblige  me,  and 
in  two  or  three  days  I  will  pay  you  a 
visit." 

Lina  understood  perfectly  what  her  bene- 
factress desired,  and  hastened  at  once  to  ful- 
fil her  wishes.  Then  in  a  tone  of  feigned 
disappointment  she  said  to  her  companions, 
"Let  us  go,  my  friends.  There  are  many 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  BENEFACTOR.     153 

more  singers  in  the  town.     I   dare  say  we 
shall  find  another  time  the  one  we  seek." 

At  the  same  time  the  whole  party  took 
the  road  to  the  valley,  and  left  Madame  de 
G at  liberty  to  return  to  her  retreat. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE    NEW   COTTAGE. 

]OME  days  after  this  incident  the  be- 
nevolent musician  one  fine  morning 
went  to  visit  the  parents  of  Lina.  The  cot- 
tage had  now  assumed  a  smiling  aspect. 
The  building  and  repairs  were  quite  finished, 
and  the  garland  of  the  masons,  adorned  with 
ribbons,  floated  gaily  from  the  top  of  the 

highest   chimney.     Madame    de   G was 

soon  surrounded  by  the  whole  family ;  and 
on  remarking  that  all  were  dressed  with  un- 
usual neatness,  she  thought  that,  perhaps, 
they  had  some  project  in  view  which  her 
presence  might  disarrange.  She  accordingly 
hastened  to  give  Lina's  father  her  fortnight's 

154 


THE   MYSTERIOUS    BENEFACTOR.          155 

receipts,  which  amounted  to  more  even  than 
the  preceding  ones. 

"  Madame,"  said  the  honest  husbandman, 
"  I  shall  accept  this  once  the  gift  which  you 
so  kindly  offer  us,  but  I  cannot  accept  it 
again  ;  it  would  be  abusing  your  kindness  ; 
for,  thanks  to  your  assistance,  we  are  now 
richer  than  we  were  before  the  fire.  Receive, 
then,  our  grateful  thanks." 

"  Well,  well,  my  friend,  I  shall  not  insist 
upon  it.  It  happens,  indeed,  all  the  more 
conveniently,  as  I  am  obliged  to  go  to  Paris 
very  soon.  But  do  not  let  me  disturb  you, 
my  good  friends." 

"  Oh,  but  you  do  not  disturb  us  !  "  inter- 
rupted Lina ;  we  should  be  happy  on  the 
contrary,  if  you  would  pass  the  day  with  us  ; 
your  presence  would  complete  our  feast." 

Madame  de  G having  asked  some 

questions  about  the  proposed  feast,  now 
learned  that  Tobias,  Lina's  brother,  was  to 
quit  the  mountains,  and  that  one  of  their 
uncles,  who  was  seventy  years  old,  was  at 
the  same  time  to  leave  the  class  of  husband- 


156  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

men,  and  enter  into  that  of  the  shepherds. 
At  the  time  fixed  for  the  ceremony,  all  the 
people  repaired  to  the  plain.  The  old  shep- 
herds were  assembled  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountain,  where  Tobias  kept  his  flocks. 
Soon  after  a  troop  of  peasants  and  villagers, 
drawn  by  curiosity,  were  seen  running  to 

them.     Madame  de  G mixed  with  the 

crowd,  leaning  on  the  shoulders  of  Lina, 
whose  relations  occupied  the  first  rank  in 
this  ceremony.  The  old  uncle  walked,  sur- 
rounded by  his  sons.  Arrived  at  the  foot  of 
the  mountain,  the  old  man  regarded  in  sad- 
ness the  rugged  path  which  led  to  the  sum- 
mit. He  sighed,  and  after  a  moment's 
silence  said,  "  I  ought,  according  to  the 
custom,  to  go  myself  to  seek  Tobias ;  but 
my  legs  refuse  to  walk  ;  I  can  but  wait." 

"Oh,  father!"  exclaimed  his  children, 
'  *  we  can  carry  you  ;  come  !  " 

The  crowd  applauded,  the  old  man  smiled, 
and  his  sons  forming  with  their  extended 
arms  a  kind  of  sedan,  raised  him  gently,  and 
commenced  the  march.  When  they  arrived 


THE   MYSTERIOUS   BENEFACTOR.          157 

at  the  end  of  their  walk,  they  placed  the  old 
man  on  a  rock.  He  rose  up,  supporting 
himself  on  his  spade,  which  he  had  brought, 
and  contemplated  with  pleasure  the  country 
which  he  looked  down  upon. 

Tobias  left  his  flocks,  threw  himself  at  the 
feet  of  his  uncle,  and  the  old  man  embraced 
him  tenderly. 

"Here,  Tobias,"  said  he,  "  take  this  spade, 
which  has  served  me  for  more  than  fifty 
years.  May  you  keep  it  as  long  as  I  have  ! " 

Saying  these  words,  he  gave  the  spade  to 
Tobias,  and  asked  for  his  crook  in  exchange. 

"Oh,  uncle!"  added  the  young  man, 
"accept  with  my  crook  this  faithful  dog, 
which  has  obeyed  me  for  seven  years.  For 
the  future  he  will  follow  and  watch  over  you  ; 
he  can  never  serve  me  more  usefully  than 
by  defending  you." 

They  then  descended  into  the  valley,  and 

Madame  de  G took  leave  of  these  good 

people,  much  pleased  to  have  been  able  to 
contribute  something  to  their  happiness.  In 
a  few  days  she  quitted  the  valley  of  Cam- 


158  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

pan,  and  returned  to  Paris.  Three  years 
afterward  she  again  travelled  into  the  moun- 
tains of  the  Pyrenees,  and  she  did  not  fail 
to  visit  her  old  proteges.  Lina  had  been 
married  two  years.  Her  grandfather,  whom 
she  had  always  taken  so  much  care  of,  was 
still  alive,  and  the  prosperity  of  their  house 
was  still  increasing. 

Before  the  principal  door  of  their  cottage 
had  been  planted  a  young  and  beautiful 
acacia,  and  at  the  foot  was  a  square  stone, 
on  which  were  engraven  the  words, 

"  To  THE  UNKNOWN  BEXEF ACTOR." 


UPON  the  summit  of  a  green  and  olive- 
clad  hill  in  Epirus,  stands  the  village 
of  Senitsa,  wooded  round  on  all  sides  by 
pine-trees,  elms,  and  alders.  Before  the 
entrance  to  the  village  is  a  spring  of  cool 
and  limpid  water,  which  an  aged  plane-tree 
overspreads  with  its  shade,  like  an  ever- 
watchful  guardian,  protecting  it  from  the 
sunbeams  ;  and  affording  a  resting-place  for 
the  dwellers  in  the  village.  Bleating  flocks 
are  scattered  over  the  emerald  pastures  that 
stretch  round  the  olive  grove,  and  sparrows 

159 


160  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

bustle  with  noisy  flight  from  bough  to  bough. 
The  place  is  a  little  Eden. 

But  beyond  the  immediate  beauty  of  the 
spot,  the  situation  is  yet  further  enhanced 
by  other  features.  The  houses  which  cover 
the  crest  of  the  hill  give  it  a  smooth  and 
glistening  appearance,  so  that  the  village 
bears  a  fanciful  resemblance  to  the  sinuous 
outline  of  a  snake,  and  all  the  houses,  and 
even  the  roads,  fascinate  the  beholder  with 
an  indescribable  charm  and  interest.  The 
eye  embraces  a  wide  expanse  of  country. 
Southwards  are  seen  the  verdant  shores  of 
Thesprotia,  and  its  endless  succession  of 
delicious  vales ;  southwards,  too,  is  visible 
the  Ionian  Sea.  To  the  north-west  is  the 
blue  gulf  of  Andria ;  to  the  north,  the  Cha- 
onian  land,  and  the  contiguous  vale  of 
Thesprotia  curved  into  many  a  tortuous  bend 
by  the  silver- waved  Thyamis,  which  winds 
along  like  a  gigantic  serpent,  and  then,  over 
against  this,  the  olive-bearing  Corcyra, 
whose  proud  fortresses  seem  like  swans  upon 
the  waters.  Here,  in  this  lovely  scene, 


AN   UNEXPECTED   MEETING.  1G1 

reigns  an  impressive  culm,  social  harmony 
and  domestic  cheerfulness.  The  lover  of 
Nature  gives  himself  wholly  up  to  contem- 
plation, and  the  soul  is  soothed  and  lulled 
in  a  flood  of  ineffable  delight. 

Towards  the  end  of  July,  183-,  about 
one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  a  young  man 
of  middle  stature,  clad  as  a  sportsman,  car- 
rying on  his  shoulder  a  double-barrelled  gun 
of  costly  manufacture,  and  followed  by  a 
couple  of  dogs,  was  slowly  mounting  this 
hill.  lie  scarcely  made  a  step  onwards 
without  turning  round  to  look  about  him  in 
all  directions,  and  seemed  in  an  ecstasy  of 
pleasure  and  admiration  at  the  magic  beauty 
of  the  panorama  which  unfolded  itself  to  his 
gaze,  while  his  dogs  went  sniffing  about  the 
bushes,  or  ran  ahead  in  different  directions, 
ever  and  anon  returning  to  their  master's 
feet,  and  then  following  a  while  quietly  at 
his  heels.  The  look  of  the  young  sportsman 
was  grave  and  sad,  but  dignified,  and  his 
expansive  forehead  and  restless  glance 


162  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

seemed  to  indicate  at    once    ability,   enter- 
prise, and  caution. 

When  he  was  near  the  village  the  sports- 
man stopped  before  the  first  house  to  salute 
the  young  girl  who  was  standing  before  the 
door,  and  ask  for  leave  to  rest,  and  for  some 
food  ;  but  he  remained  motionless  in  admira- 
tion of  her  beauty.  This  damsel  of  twenty 
summers,  of  tall  and  graceful  figure,  wearing 
an  Epirote  costume,  with  a  ,  narrow  red 
ribbon  negligently  bound  round  her  black 
hair,  from  beneath  which  appeared  her  neck, 
whiter  than  a  lily,  might  well  have  served 
as  model  for  the  Amazon  of  Phidias. 

'  *  What  eyes  !  what  a  face  !  "  murmured 
the  stranger.  "  Abominable  tyrants  !"  And 
he  raised  his  hat  and  bowed  to  the  girl. 

"Vous  ctes  le  bienvenu,  monsieur,"  re- 
plied she,  in  French,  to  his  silent  greeting. 

"  Pardon  me,  mademoiselle,  for  saying 
so,  but  I  find  myself  in  a  situation  which  is 
to  be  inexplicable,  The  country,  the  very 
spot,  the  scenery,  your  own  unexpected 
apparition,  the  language  of  my  country,  fill 


AN  UNEXPECTED  MEETING.  163 

me  with  astonishment,  and  for  a  moment  I 
fancy  I  must  be  in  the  land  of  the  nymphs." 

'•  Sir,"  she.  answered  again,  with  a  frank 
smile  which  parted  two  coral  lips  and  dis- 
played between  them  two  rows  of  teeth 
brighter  than  pearls,  "  you  are  in  a  village 
of  the  unhappy  Epirus  called  Senitsa,  and 
before  a  girl  born  in  this  same  village,  and 
unhappy,  like  all  her  countryfolk." 

"And  how,  mademoiselle,  did  you  come 
to  know  French  ?  "  questioned  the  stranger. 

"It  is  my  mother's  native  tongue,  mon- 
sieur." 

' '  Your  mother's  !  "  repeated  the  young 
man,  amazed.  "Your  mother's!  Your 
mother,  then,  was  a  Frenchwoman?" 

"Yes,  she  is  from  the  town  of  Gourdon 
in  Guientie." 

"And  your  father?" 

"My  father  is  an  Epirote,  a  Hellene, 
born  like  myself  in  this  very  village." 

In  his  desire  to  know  the  reason  of  this 
strange  union,  the  stranger  broke  in  with 
another  question. 


164  A   BOOK  FOR   GIRLS. 

"Tell  me,"  he  said,  "mademoiselle,  I 
entreat,  how  comes  a  Frenchwoman  to  be 
married  to  a  Greek  Epirote  here  ?  I  am  at  a 
loss  to  understand  it." 

"  That,  monsieur,  is  not  told  in  a  minute. 
You  have  come  from  the  valley  where  the 
sun  is  rather  too  hot  to  be  pleasant.  I  see 
you  are  suffering  from  the  heat  and  are 
much  in  need  of  rest.  May  I  ask  if  you  are 
alone  ?  for  generally  the  foreign  sportsmen 
who  come  here  are  accompanied  by  a  ser- 
vant or  an  interpreter." 

"True,"  replied  the  sportsman,  "and  I 
am  attended  by  an  interpreter  and  a  servant. 
But  the  interpreter  has  been  attacked  as  if 
by  fever,  and  the  servant  has  taken  him  off 
to  some  shops  along  the  seashore  and  re- 
mained there  to  be  with  him  and  tend  him 
until  I  return.  But  you  do  not  tell  me 
about  your  mother." 

"Be  so  good,  monsieur,  as  to  come 
into  our  poor  cottage,  and  rest  a  while. 
It  will  not  be  long  before  my  father  re- 
turns, and  he  will  satisfy  your  curiosity. 


AN   UNEXPECTED   MEETING.  165 

lie  always  comes  home  at  noon  to  break- 
fast.' 

The  young  sportsman  followed  the  damsel 
into  the  cottage,  where  he  was  struck  by  the 
cleanliness  and  neatness  of  the  dwelling  and 
its  furniture. 

"  Mother,  dear,"  said  the  girl,  as  she  ap- 
proached a  venerable  old  woman  who  was 
seated  on  a  wooden  stool,  occupied  in  spin- 
ning, "  I  bring  you  one  of  your  countrymen." 

"  Un  frangais  I  un  frangais  ! "  cried  the  old 
woman,  in  pure  French,  and  in  her  excite- 
ment she  threw  her  work  into  a  corner,  say- 
ing :  "  Are  you  a  Frenchman,  monsieur  —  a 
compatriot?"  and  with  eyes  filled  with  tears, 
she  threw  her  arms  around  the  visitor,  and 
kissed  him  on  the  forehead.  "  Oh,  cher  en- 
fant, whereabouts  are  you  in  this  neighbor- 
hood?" said  she  to  him.  "  Mon  Dieu  !  quel 
bonheur  pour  moi !  "  and,  overcome  with  joy, 
she  continued  weeping. 

"Madame,  your  beautiful  daughter  told 
me  just  now  that  you  were  born  in  Gourdon 
in  Guienne." 


166  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

"Yes,  my  dear  child,  there  I  was  born, 
and  bred,  and  married." 

"  But  I  am  at  a  loss  to  conceive  how  you 
come  to  be  here,"  said  the  stranger. 

"  Sad  events  brought  both  of  us,  my 
husband  and  myself,  here  to  this  beloved 
village,  in  1815." 

"That  is  to  say?" 

"  The  defeat  of  the  great  Napoleon." 

At  the  sound  of  these  words,  a  deep  gloom 
overspread  the  features  of  the  young  sports- 
man, and  beads  of  sweat  broke  out  glistening 
on  his  brow. 

"  And  how  could  Napoleon's  destiny  affect 
you?" 

"  How,  my  child?  The  emperor  was  our 
master.  My  husband  served  in  the  grand 
army  in  the  regiment  of  Mamelukes.  How  ? 
you  ask,"  and  with  a  deep  sigh  she  again 
broke  into  tears. 

The  young  sportsman,  visibly  moved, 
turned  the  conversation,  leaving  the  history 
to  be  completed  by  the  husband  when  he 
came  home. 


AN    UNEXPECTED    MEETING.  167 

"Are  you  happy,  madame,  in  this  coun- 
try ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Happy?"  repeated  the  old  woman,  with 
emotion.  "Yes,  I  am  happy;  the  worthy 
people  of  this  country  are  good  to  me  beyond 
measure,  and  show  me  every  respect.  When 
they  first  learned  that  I  was  a  Frenchwoman, 
there  was  nothing  they  were  not  ready  to  do 
to  afford  me  pleasure.  My  excellent  husband 
found  a  thousand  ways  of  delighting  me." 

"The  Epirotes  are  hospitable,"  said  the 
stranger. 

"  Hospitable  they  are,  my  son,  and  honor- 
able and  courageous  ;  but  they  live  under  a 
barbarous  yoke.  What  can  they  do  ?  Epi rus 
has  been  the  nursery  of  heroism.  Do  you 
see  yon  mountain?"  said  she  to  him,  in  ac- 
cents of  enthusiasm,  and  taking  him  by  the 
hand  she  lead  him  outside  the  house.  "Upon 
that  mountain  stands  the  celebrated  Sou- 
lium,  the  land  of  the  very  Amazons.  There, 
though  conquered  by  the  tyrant  of  Epirus, 
AH  Pasha  came  like  another  Hippolyta,  the 
mother  of  the  hero,  Isabella,  at  the  head  of 


168  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

five  hundred  Souliote  women,  and  slew  or 
routed  the  troops  of  that  miscreant.  Further 
to  the  north  is  another  warlike  people,  an- 
other people  of  heroes,  the  Chimariotes  ;  and 
beyond  this  again,  towards  the  north-east, 
do  you  see  that  long  crest  curved  like  a 
scythe?  There  lies  Samarina,  the  land  of  a 
brave  and  warlike  folk.  And  what  part  of 
Epirus  does  not  emulate  the  others  in  valor?" 

' '  And  are  they  Hellenes  ?  "  asked  the  young 
man,  pretending  ignorance. 

"  Certainly,"  answered  the  old  woman  with 
enthusiasm,  and  with  French  vivacity.  ' '  Cer- 
tainly they  are  Hellenes.  They  fought  most 
heroically  for  the  independence  of  Greece,  a 
few  years  ago,  and  my  beloved  husband  him- 
self was  at  the  head  of  a  small  band,  and 
fought  in  various  places.  How  could  the 
Thessalians  not  do  the  same  ?  " 

"And  what  has  Greece  given  your  hus- 
band ?  " 

"  What  could  poor  Greece  give  him?  It 
gave  him  what  she  could,  —  a  small  payment. 
Sir,  the  whole  Greek  people  were  fighting 


AN    UNEXPECTED    MEETING.  169 

for  their  country,  and  I  am  convinced  that, 
were  she  able,  Greece,  once  free,  would  fain 
reward  all  her  children  ;  but,  however  much 
she  might  desire  this,  she  would  be  unable 
to  accomplish  her  wish,  even  if  she  were  sold 
ten  times  over.  Diplomacy  has  created  this 
little  kingdom,  only  to  be  crushed  under  the 
weight  of  many  obligations  and  unavoidable 
debts,  and  be  constantly  the  object  of  quar- 
rels, demands,  complaints,  and  jealousies." 

"  Tell  me,  if  you  please,  madame,  are  the 
Thessalians  Hellenes  ?  " 

4 '  Heavens  !  is  it  possible  that  you  Euro- 
peans do  not  know  that  the  Epirotes,  and  the 
Thessalians,  and  the  Macedonians,  and  the 
Thracians,  and  many  peoples  in  Asia 'Minor 
besides,  are  all  Hellenes?" 

"  And  how  many  Hellenes  and  how  many 
Ottomans  do  you  suppose  there  are  in  those 
provinces?" 

"  In  Epirus  and  in  Macedonia  about  two- 
thirds  of  the  inhabitants  are  Hellenes,  and 
about  one-third  Ottomans.  In  Thessaly, 
one-eight  only  are  Ottomans.  In  Asia  Mi- 


170  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

nor,  I  am  unable,  my  son,  to  tell  you  what 
is  the  proportion." 

"I  see,  madame,"  said  the  young  man, 
"that  you  are  acquainted  both  with  Greek 
geography  and  with  the  modern  history  of 
Greece." 

"How,  my  dear  child,  should  I  be  igno- 
rant of  the  history  of  the  nation  among  whom 
I  have  been  so  many  years?  With  my  hus- 
band a  Greek,  and  my  daughter  a  Greek,  and 
having  lived  in  the  celebrated  Missolonghi, 
and  in  many  other  parts  of  Greece  since  the 
war  of  independence." 

"  May  I  inquire,  madame,  the  names  of 
your  husband  and  of  your  daughter  ?  " 

*'  My  husband's  name  is  George  Kazoules, 
and  my  daughter's  Hortensia." 

The  young  man's  breathing  became  more 
rapid,  his  eyes  opened  and  closed  spasmodi- 
cally, as  if  in  an  endeavor  to  restrain  a  tear. 

"  I  see,  my  child,"  said  the  old  lady, 
"  that  you  are  overcome  with  fatigue  and 
have  need  of  rest ;  pardon  me,  and  excuse 
my  garrulity." 


AN   UNEXPECTED   MEETING.  171 

Ilortensia,  who  had  left  the  house  a  short 
while  before,  now  returned,  carrying  a  tray, 
and  upon  it  A  yessel  of  refreshing  beverage, 
and  a  bowl  of  milk,  and  bread  of  the  whitest. 

"Take  some  refreshment,  sir,"  she  said 
to  the  stranger  ;  "  I  beg  you  to  let  this  serve 
until  we  can  prepare  an  Epirote  supper.  My 
father  will  soon  return." 

' '  Hortensia,  Ilortensia,  beautiful  Horten- 
sia  I  I  like  to  repeat  your  name,  I  thank 
you,  and  he  raised  his  eyes  to  the  roof  to 
dispel  the  agitation  which  he  felt  at  his 
heart ;  then,  quaffing  at  a  draught  the  con- 
tents of  the  cup,  he  fell  to  with  great  appe- 
tite. 

Shortly  after  this,  a  measured  step  was 
heard,  and  a  man  of  sixty  years,  of  lofty 
stature,  and  still  as  upright  and  bold  in  at- 
titude as  a  statue,  entered.  His  thick  whit- 
ish moustache,  which  stood  out  like  a  brush 
from  each  cheek,  his  broad  and  open  fore- 
head, his  fine  martial  face,  a  scar  extending 
nearly  across  one  cheek,  proclaimed  a  vet- 
eran in  the  yrande  armed  of  the  Emperor. 


172  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

The  young  sportsman  as  soon  as  he  saw 
him  felt  there  was  before  him  an  old  soldier 
who  had  adopted  the  Hellenic  costume,  and 
was  wandering  about  among  the  groves  of 
the  Kerameikos. 

' '  Oh  !  Oh  !  "  exclaimed  two  voices  simul- 
taneously, the  voice  of  George,  and  the 
voice  of  the  sportsman.  Their  salutation 
took  place  in  silence  —  a  pressure  of  the 
hands,  embraces  and  sighs  of  pleasure,  a 
greeting  from  soul  to  soul,  a  greeting  of  in- 
ward sympathy,  earnest,  sincere,  for  when 
hearts  greet  each  other,  the  lips  are  mute. 

"  My  dear  father,"  said  Hortensia,  accost- 
ing her  father,  "  our  young  guest  is  a 
Frenchman." 

"I  know;  his  men  in  the  shops  below 
told  me  so,  and  I  therefore  made  haste  and 
came  quicker  than  usual.  Eat,  sir,"  said  he, 
turning  to  the  stranger,  "  and  afterwards  we 
shall  have  time  to  talk." 

"  I  am  going  away  shortly." 

"  I  inquired  of  the  men  of  your  boat,  sir, 
when  you  were  going  to  leave,  and  they 


AX   UNEXPECTED   MEETING.  173 

replied  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  do  so 
to-day,  but  that  they  would  be  able  to  do 
so  to-morrow  with  the  land  breeze.  Take 
some  breakfast,  then,  and  rest,  and  when 
you  awake  we  can  converse  at  length,  for 
my  wife  told  me  that  you  wished  to  learn 
how  I  came  to  be  here ;  and  afterwards  we 
will  sup  in  Epirote  fashion." 

"  Sir,"  said  the  guest  graciously,  "  I  obey 
you,  and  gladly  accept  your  invitation  to 
sup,  but  come  and  breakfast  yourselves." 

"  Hortensia  and  I, "answered the  old  lady, 
"breakfast  at  ten  o'clock,  so  that  we  have 
finished  long  ago.  Let  George  eat." 

George  sat  down  to  table,  but  rather  to 
attend  to  his  visitor  than  to  eat  himself. 
After  the  meal  the  couple  and  their  daughter 
withdrew  to  another  room,  leaving  the  young 
sportsman  to  repose  in  quiet. 

It  was  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 
Beneath  the  plane-tree  by  the  spring,  the 
water  of  which  fell  plashing  from  the  craggy 
rocks,  sat  our  couple  and  their  guest,  upon 
a  stone  bench  which  the  rustic  admirers  of 


174  A   BOOK  FOR   GIRLS. 

this  beautiful  landscape  hud  set  up  many 
years  previously,  on  purpose  to  afford  a 
resting-place  to  those  who  went  to  the  spring. 
The  young  Frenchman  was  smoking  with 
thorough  enjoyment  a  Havana  cigar,  while 
Hortensia  was  coming  towards  them  at  some 
distance,  like  a  veritable  wood-nymph,  and 
bringing  a  tray  with  coffee,  and  coffee- 
things.  She  approached  and  poured  out  the 
coffee  into  her  cup,  and  presented  it  to  the 
guest  and  to  her  parents. 

"  It  is  time,  sir,  I  think,"  said  the  visitor, 
"  for  you  to  tell  me  how  you  come  to  be 
here  with  my  fellow-citizen." 

"My  dear  sir,"  answered  George,  "I 
went  while  still  a  lad  to  Egypt,  and  there 
attached  myself  to  the  gardener  of  Soukiour 
Bey,  one  of  the  richest  and  most  powerful 
Mamelukes  in  Cairo  ;  and  from  this  skilful 
head  gardener,  who  was  a  Neapolitan,  I 
learned  the  art  of  gardening,  and  when 
some  years  later  he  died,  I  succeeded  to  his 
place  as  the  most  expert  of  all  the  others. 
When  the  then  General  Bonaparte  came  to 


AX   UNEXPECTED  MEETING.  175 

Egypt,  he  wished  to  form  a  regiment  of 
Mamelukes  from  the  resident  Greeks.  In 
this  regiment  I  served,  while  the  army  re- 
mained in  Egypt,  and  when  it  returned  to 
France,  I  went  with  it.  Bonaparte  was  fond 
of  this  regiment,  and  when  he  was  proclaimed 
Consul,  and  afterwards  Emperor,  he  con- 
tinued to  care  specially  for  it.  The  Mam- 
elukes generally  fought  near  him,  for  he  was 
extremely  attached  to  them  on  account  of 
their  courage  and  their  devotion  to  him.  At 
the  battle  of  Leipzig  I  received  this  wound, 
of  which  you  see  the  scar  on  my  cheek,  and 
for  this  distinction  he  conterred  upon  me  the 
decoration  of  the  Legion  of  Honor  and  pro- 
moted me  to  the  rank  of  brigadier,  owing, 
as  I  afterwards  learned,  to  the  mediation  of 
a  certain  great  lady.  I  fought  in  thirty-two 
battles,  and  I  bear  six  wounds  on  different 
parts  of  my  body.  Upon  the  accession  of 
the  Bourbons  to  the  French  throne,  I  did  not 
wish  to  continue  to  serve,  so  I  took  my  wife, 
who  I  had  married  only  a  few  months  before, 
and  came  into  this  country  where  I  was  born." 


176  A   BOOK  FOR  GIRLS. 

"  But  you  are  leaving  out  the  most  inter- 
esting episode  of  your  life,"  said  the  guest, 
smiling. 

"  I  understand, — you  mean  my  marriage. 
Joseph  Loret  was  my  intimate  friend.  He 
had  lost  his  right  hand  in  the  engagement  at 
Smolensk,  and  had  been  placed  among  the 
soldiers  withdrawn  from  service  by  the  Em- 
peror, who  had  subsequently  conferred  upon 
him  the  decoration  of  the  Legion  of  Honor, 
and  given  him  a  handsome  pension  for  life. 
When  the  Emperor  returned  from  the  Island 
of  Elba  to  France,  he  sent  me  with  important 
despatches  to  the  commune  of  Gourdon  in 
Guienne,  where  I  stayed  twenty  days,  and 
then,  having  accomplished  the  object  of  my 
mission,  I  returned  to  Paris  with  the  answer 
of  the  Governor.  Of  course  I  saw  every 
day  my  friend  Loret,  who  was  then  living 
in  his  native  village  of  Gourdon.  He  had 
three  children,  one  son  and  two  daughters. 
Louisa,  the  eldest,  who  is  my  wife,  was 
beautiful."  The  old  woman's  neck  rose  with 
coquetry  as  she  laughed  heartily  ;  for  the  fair 


AN   UNEXPECTED   MEETING.  177 

sex,  even  at  the  close  of  life,  likes  to  hear 
the  beauty  of  its  youthful  years  praised. 

"  Yes,"  said  George,  casting  a  glance  of 
sympathy  and  affection  at  his  aged  wife, 
*'  my  Louisa  was  beautiful,  and  I  was  hand- 
some and  brave ;  we  fell  in  love  at  sight. 
Love  seized  upon  us  directly,  as  a  spark  is 
instantaneously  kindled  from  the  flint.  We 
knew  each  other  at  once.  She  wished  to 
marry  me,  and  I  her,  and  that  was  the  whole 
matter  in  a  nutshell.  I  asked  her  father ; 
he  did  not  say  no,  for,  knowing  my  military 
deserts,  he  believed  that  I  should  shortly 
receive  promotion  of  some  kind.  My  Lou- 
isa did  not  make  any  similar  calculations  as 
it  was  George,  and  not  a  captaincy  that  she 
loved.  Love  does  not  study  logic ;  it  has 
its  own  particular  computations,  which  it 
demonstrates  with  great  ease  without  one's 
breaking  one's  head  over  figures.  Five  days 
later  I  was  betrothed,  and  afterwards  returned 
to  Paris,  leaving  my  future  wife  with  her 
father. 

"  Did  the  marriage   come  off,  George?" 


178  A  BOOK  FOR  GIRLS. 

asked  Louisa,  with  a  native  French  gaiety, 
and  casting  upon  her  husband  a  glance  which 
any  man,  who  understood  women,  must 
envy  him. 

"  Yes,  my  Louisa,  you  are  my  love  of 
1815,"  answered  George,  sucking  the  wine 
from  his  mustachios. 

"  Do  not  recall  those  times,  we  have 
grown  old." 

"  Love  is  «ver  young,"  retorted  George. 

By  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  table 
had  been  got  ready  by  the  beautiful  Horten- 
sia ;  it  was  covered  with  a  snow-white  cloth, 
and  bespoke  cleanliness  and  frugality.  The 
knives  and  forks  were  polished  as  brightly 
as  if  they  had  but  newly  come  from  the 
maker.  A  lamb  cooked  whole,  according 
to  the  Hellenic  cuisine,  in  which  the  Epirotes 
excel,  was  in  a  pewter  dish  and  occupied 
the  centre  of  the  table ;  the  glasses  shone 
with  cleanness,  and  the  wine  of  Zitse  in  its 
flagon  looked  like  a  colossal  bulb  of  ruby. 
The  guest  was  placed  between  the  two  aged 
spouses,  and  Hortensia  sat  opposite  to  him. 


AN    UNEXPECTED    MEETING.  179 

A  girl  from  the  neighborhood,  who  had 
come  out  of  friendship  for  Hortensia  to  wait 
upon  them,  brought  in  a  bowl  of  capon 
broth,  made  with  giblets,  wild  aromatic 
herbs,  a  little  rice,  and  yolks  of  eggs. 

' '  What  bright-colored  soup  !  "  said  the 
young  sportsman  ;  "  it  is  delicious,  it  is  the 
first  time  I  have  eaten  such  soup." 

"  You  are  hungry,  sir,  that  is  the  reason 
it  seems  so  good,"  answered  George. 

"Not  so,  I  assure  you,"  rejoined  the 
youth  ;  "  the  soup  is  indeed  excellent." 

"Yes, "put  in  the  old  woman,  laughing, 
"it  is  the  Emperor's  soup,  the  same  he 
used  to  call  Florentine,  and  of  which  he  was 
extremely  fond.  But  your  praises  are  in 
jest." 

"Why  so,  madame?  If  Emperors  pre- 
pared their  own  meals,  their  cookery  might 
indeed  deserve  ridicule,  but  it  is  otherwise, 
for  their  cooking  is  done  by  common  folk." 

"I  am  glad,  sir,"  said  Hortensia,  "that 
you  give  me  reason  to  be  proud  of  my 
housekeeping." 


180  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

The  young  man  inclined  his  head,  and 
confirmed  the  beautiful  girl's  phrase  by  a 
grave  and  kindly  smile.  "  My  dear  Angel- 
icula,  put  one  capon  in  a  dish,"  said  Ilorten- 
sia,  addressing  the  girl  who  was  waiting  on 
them  ;  "and  do  thou,  father,  cut  off  a  shoul- 
der and  a  leg  of  the  lamb,  to  be  set  aside, 
and  put  in  the  boat  to-morrow  morning. 

"  I  am  much  obliged,  mademoiselle,  but  I 
think,  indeed,  you  are  troubling  yourself 
quite  unnecessarily,"  said  the  guest. 

"Sir,"  replied  Hortensia  with  vivacity, 
"we  are  masters  in  our  own  house,  and 
free  to  treat  our  guest  as  pleases  us."  And 
as  she  smiled,  she  showed  the  sportsman  a 
pair  of  lips  which  seemed  to  part  like  the 
petals  of  a  rosebud  before  the  beams  of 
the  morning  sun. 

In  this  wise  the  meal  passed.  The  stran- 
ger ate  with  huge  appetite,  and  proclaimed 
the  praises  of  the  roast  lamb  to  such  an 
extent  that,  had  the  soup  been  endowed 
with  feeling,  it  would  assuredly  have  pro- 
tested. 


AN   UNEXPECTED   MEETING.  181 

"Life  may  be  found  pleasant  every- 
where," remarked  the  stranger. 

"Ah,  sir,  slavery  and  a  pleasant  life  are 
two  terrible  enemies,"  answered  Hortensia, 
and  her  bosom  of  alabaster  heaved  with  a 
deep  sigh. 

"  I'm  going  to  drink  to  the  health  of  a 
certain  great  lady,"  exclaimed  George,  radi- 
ant with  the  glow  of  the  wine  of  Zitse. 
"Fill  your  glasses,  you  shall  drain  them 
to  the  bottom.  We  will  drink  to  the  health 
of  an  angel ;  and,  raising  his  glass  above  his 
head,  he  cried,  "To  the  health  of  the  Em- 
press Hortensia  ;  may  God  guard  her  where- 
ever  she  is  !  " 

The  young  sportsman's  hand  shook  like 
the  hand  of  a  man  in  a  fever,  and  the  greater 
part  of  the  wine  in  his  glass  fell  upon  the 
the  table,  but,  resuming  his  grave  and  calm 
demeanor,  — 

"Monsieur  George,"  said  he,  "you  ap- 
pear to  have  a  great  devotion  towards  the 
Empress  Hortensia,  for  you  have  given  your 
beautiful  daughter  her  name.  I  should  like 


182  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

to  know  the  reason  of  sucli  great  devo- 
tion." 

"I  see  you  have  made  up  your  mind  to 
hear  my  whole  life,  "answered  George,  laugh- 
ing. "After  the  battle  of  Wagram,  then, 
when  we  had  brought  the  Austrians  to  rea- 
son, we  returned  triumphant  to  Paris." 

George  recalled  the  days  of  his  youth 
with  pleasure,  and  began  to  sing  in  French  a 
military  song  which  had  used  to  be  contin- 
ually on  the  lips  of  the  soldiers  of  the  grand 
army. 

"  Continue  your  narration,"  said  the  young 
stranger,  with  enthusiasm,  to  George. 

"  Well,"  resumed  the  later,  "the  Emperor 
wished  to  change  the  Empress  Josephine's 
guard  of  honor  at  Malmaison,  and  despatched 
thither  a  detachment,  of  which  I,  with  one 
brigade,  formed  part.  I  used  to  see  every 
day  this  good  and  virtuous  lady,  to  whom 
the  army  was  passionately  attached  on  ac- 
count of  her  rare  qualities.  Xot  a  day 
passed  without  her  showing  us  some  kind- 
ness. If  one  of  us  happened  to  be  ill,  she 


AN   UNEXPECTED   MEETING.  183 

did  us  the  honor  to  come  and  visit  us  in  per- 
son, and  console  us,  and  took  care  that  even 
the  least  trifle  should  not  be  wanting  to  our 
comfort.  One  day  in  autumn,  as  I  was 
walking  about  the  shubberies  at  Malmaison, 
I  came  to  a  part  planted  with  flowering 
shrubs,  and,  taking  a  knife  from  my  pocket, 
I  cut  away  some  branches  which  required 
pruning.  A  shadow  made  me  aware  that 
some  one  was  standing  behind  me,  and  turn- 
ing round,  I  saw  a  beautiful  }7oung  woman 
of  dignified  appearance,  elegantly  but  sim- 
ply dressed,  whom  I  beheld  for  the  first  time  ; 
and  I  uncovered  my  head  and  bowed  to  her. 

"  '  Que  faites-vous  la,  monsieur?'  she 
asked  me,  in  a  sweet  and  melodious  voice. 

"  '  I  am  pruning  the  shrubs,  madame.' 

"  '  I  see  you  are  an  expert  at  it ;  you  se3m 
to  understand  gardening.' 

"  '  I  was  a  gardener  before  I  was  a  soldier, 
madame.'  When  she  heard  this,  she  was 
desirous  of  hearing,  what  you  have  just 
asked  to  be  told,  the  vicissitudes  of  my  life. 

"  '  Are  you  a  Frenchman?'"  she  asked. 


184  A   BOOK   FOR  GIRLS. 

"  '  Madame,  I  am  now  a  Frenchman,  for 
I  am  in  the  service  of  the  Emperor  of 
France.  I  am,  however,  a  Greek,  as  I  was 
born  in  Greece.' 

"'You  descend  from  a  great  nation.  I 
have  read  his  history.  My  mother  made  me 
read  the  Abbe  Bartholomme's  Jeune  Anac/t- 
arsis.  What  a  people,  what  a  nation,  what 
sages,  what  soldiers  ! ' 

"  'But  now  this  nation  is  oppressed  be- 
neath a  barbarous  yoke.' 

"  '  Nations  which  have  such  a  glorious  past 
and  such  a  brilliant  history  as  the  Greeks 
are  not  doomed  to  extinction,  as  Providence 
will  one  day  show  .  .  .  the  Emperor 
Oh,  how  I  love  Greece  since  I  have 
read  its  wonderful  history!'  Her  speech 
became  broken,  her  voice  sank  lower  and 
grew  more  agitated.  She  threw  a  purse  full 
of  gold  coins  at  my  feet,  and  with  rapid 
steps  disappeared  before  I  could  express  my 
thanks  to  her." 

' '  And  then  ?  "  asked  the  youth  with  impa- 
tience. 


AN   UNEXPECTED   MEETING.  185 

"Have  patience,  dear  sir;"  answered 
George.  "  You  seem  wonderfully  eager." 

"And  then?" 

"You  shall  hear.  And  then,  next  day, 
lo  and  behold,  a  document  conies  to  me  :  I 
am  made  a  lieutenant  with  two  silver  epau- 
lettes. A  few  days  later,  whilst  in  the  gar- 
den with  a  comrade,  I  observe  the  same  lady 
walking  at  some  distance  off.  '  Tell  me,'  I 
said,  '  pray,  do  you  know  who  that  lady  is?' 
* '  'What !  do  you  not  know  who  that  is  ? '  said 
he :  '  that  is  Queen  Hortensia,  of  Holland.' 

"I  resolved  to  throw  myself  at  her  feet, 
as  a  manifestation  of  my  respect  for  her,  and 
to  express  my  gratitude  towards  her,  for  I 
felt  convinced,  beyond  a  doubt,  that  her 
Majesty  had  been  the  mediatrix  of  my  pro- 
motion. She  passed,  however,  into  another 
part  of  the  shrubbery,  and  disappeared  among 
the  mazes  of  the  plantation." 

There  was  something  in  this  relation  that 
moved  the  young  sportsman,  who  was  listen- 
ing to  it,  so  deeply  that  he  was  scarcely  able 
to  restrain  his  tears. 


186  A  BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

"My  beloved  France!"  ho  cried,  "my 
beloved  people  of  France  ! "  he  cried.  ' '  Oh, 
how  I  love  you  ! " 

"  You  recollect,  my  dear  child,  our  be- 
loved country,"  said  the  aged  Louisa.  "You 
do  rightly ;  and  it  is  frequently  present  in 
my  recollection.  Would  that  the  people  of 
these  parts  could  say  the  like,  who  have,  and 
yet  have  not  a  fatherknd." 

"  God,  madame,  who  is  the  common  father 
of  ail,  will  have  them  in  his  keeping,  and 
his  providence  is  infinitely  great." 

"  True,  my  child,  it  is  great ;  but  Europe 
—  Christian  Europe  —  forsakes  us.  Bless 
the  prince  who  shall  stretch  out  his  right 
hand  to  this  people  !  The  great  Alexander 
went  to  Asia  to  spread  civilization  there,  and 
by  that  alone  earned  the  appellation  of  Great. 
The  name  of  the  leader,  however,  who  shall 
deliver  the  descendants  of  that  hero,  will  be 
written  more  brightly  on  the  pages  of  history 
than  that  of  Alexander,  for  he  will  rouse  the 
Hellenic  people  from  slavery,  and  raise  a 
beacon  to  show  the  East  the  light  of  civili- 


AX   UNEXPECTED  MEETING.  187 

zation.  This  man  shall  be  called  a  benefac- 
tor to  the  human  race." 

"  God  will  raise  such  a  one  up  in  His  own 
good  time,"  answered  the  stranger  slowly, 
and  with  a  tone  of  conviction. 

"Give  me  the  bone,"  said  George;  "let 
me  see  your  shoulder-blade  fortune." 

"  So  you  understand  foretelling  by  shoul- 
der-blades, George?  And  do  you  believe  in 
it?" 

"Just  listen;  do  I  believe?  Look  at  a 
shoulder-bone  when  you  will,  it  will  always 
tell  you  the  truth.  The  shoulder-blade  bone 
is  infallible  ; "  and  taking  it  into  his  hands, 
he  wiped  it.  "I  will  interrogate  it  respect- 
ing you.  I  will  see  what  it  has  to  say  about 
your  journey.  I  place  you  on  the  right  hand." 

"  Oh  !  ho  !  "  cried  he,  as  he  observed  the 
bone  with  astonishment.  "  What  do  I  see? 
An  eagle  hovers  over  you,  a  great  multitude 
of  people  is  at  your  feet.  Curious  !  My 
friend,  you  are  a  great  monarch,  or  will  be 
one.  You  have,  however,  many  vicissitudes 
before  you." 


188  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

The  young  sportsman  smiled  with  his 
habitual  reserve  and  gravity ;  then,  looking 
at  George,  said : 

"  I  see,  George,  that  you  believe  absurdi- 
ties, like  little  children,  or  like  old  folk." 

"  It  is  as  I  tell  you,  my  dear  child," 
answered  George,  in  a  tone  of  entire  convic- 
tion, pushing  up  the  ends  of  his  moustache. 

Every  one  was  up  early  next  morning. 
The  guest,  clad  in  his  sporting  suit,  was 
standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  examin- 
ing his  piece  and  straightening  his  ramrod. 
George  was  stowing  some  portions  of  lamb, 
the  capon,  and  some  bread,  into  a  basket, 
and  bore  on  his  shoulders,  like  a  soldier's 
haversack,  a  flask  full  of  wine. 

"  Hortensia,"  said  the  stranger,  approach- 
ing the  girl  who  was  standing  near,  "give 
me  3'our  hand;  I  must  bid  you  farewell. 
Take  this  diamond,  let  it  be  your  dowry;" 
and  he  placed  upon  her  finger  a  costly  ring 
in  which  was  set  a  very  large  diamond. 
Hortensia  was  for  refusing  the  present,  but 
the  stranger  said  to  her,  "Mademoiselle, 


AN    UNEXPECTED   MEETING.  189 

you  must  not  reject  this  gift ;  "  and  his  utter- 
ance was  so  grave  and  commanding  that 
Hortensia  remained  speechless,  her  gratitude 
to  him  finding  its  only  expression  in  the  in- 
clination of  her  head. 

"  Sir,"  said  George,  "  it  is  time  to  depart. 
We  pray  God  grant  you  a  favorable  voyage, 
and  watch  over  you,  that  you  travel  back, 
without  mishap,  to  your  country  ;  but  while 
I  have  told  you  my  history,  with  the  utmost 
exactness,  you  must,  at  least,  tell  us  your 
name,  that  we  may  ever  remember  you." 

"Louis  Napoleon  Bonaparte,"  answered 
the  youth. 

Louisa  ran  forward  as  to  embrace  him,  but 
the  sportsman,  with  quick  stride,  hastened 
towards  the  road  leading  to  the  shop  by  the 
waterside,  and  disappeared. 


BREAD  AND  CHEESE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

AT    TABLE. 

j]T  was  five  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and 
the  officers  of  the  garrison  were  as- 
sembling in  the  quarters  of  General  Bruni. 
The  morning  had  been  spent  in  a  grand 
review  and  gun  practise  on  the  Place 
d'Armes,  and  the  display  was  to  be  crowned 
m  the  evening  by  a  most  cheerful  banquet. 
The  General  was  an  old  soldier,  somewhat 
rough  in  external  appearance,  but  frank, 

191 


192  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

and  of  a  noble  and  a  generous  heart.  He 
moved  about  among  his  officers  like  a  father 
among  his  children.  "  Captain,"  to  me, 
"your  company  files,  marches  and  dresses 
so  easily  and  so  correctly,  that  the  flash  of 
their  pieces  has  the  effect  of  a  fiery  ser- 
pent." 

"  Lieutenant,"  to  another,  "  tell  your  boys 
that  I  watched  them  as  they  charged ;  they 
are  the  very  type  of  the  brave  soldier." 

The  dinner  hour  was  meanwhile  drawing 
on,  and  the  general,  approaching  a  group 
in  the  enclosure  of  a  window,  and  throwing 
away  the  end  of  a  cigar,  drew  out  his  watch, 
looked  at  it  intently  for  some  moments,  and 
at  length  exclaimed, — 

"  Bertino  is  rather  slow  to-day!"  He 
had  hardly  finished  the  sentence  when  the 
folding  doors  were  thrown  open  and  a  valet, 
cap  in  hand,  announced  that  the  dinner  was 
ready.  The  general  gave  the  signal  to  pro- 
ceed, and  stepped  up  to  a  youthful  officer 
of  stout,  well-set  frame,  and  wearing  a  heavy 
pair  of  moustaches.  "  My  boy,"  he  whis- 


BREAD   AND   CHEESE.  193 

pered  into  his  ear,  "you  shall  sit  on  nay 
right  hand." 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  had  elapsed,  and 
active  operations  were  fairly  begun  at  all 
points  of  the  table  ;  then  followed  a  bran- 
dishing of  carving  knives,  a  wielding  of 
forks,  a  rending  of  fowls,  a  stripping  of 
bones,  a  crackling  of  pastry,  which  promised 
a  combat,  a  oulrance,  and  war  to  the  death, 
without  quarter  ;  only  that  instead  of  blood, 
there  was  an  abundant  flow  of  wine,  and  the 
general  din  resolved  itself  into  words  and 
laughter.  But  the  General  in  searching  his 

O  ~ 

pocket  for  a  toothpick,  discovered  that  his 
watch  was  missing.  He  felt  about  in  every 
direction,  searched  all  his  pockets,  then 
turning  to  a  youthful  captain  who  sat  on 
his  left  he  said,  "My  repeater  has  disap- 
peared/' 

"  General,  you  may  have  left  it  hanging  at 
your  bedpost.  A  few  days  ago  a  similar"  — 

"  Xot  at  all ;  I  tell  you,  I  had  it  in  my 
hand  just  now,  and  I  am  not  dreaming.  Do 
you  not  remember  that  I  looked  at  it  a  few 


194  A  BOOK  FOR   GIRLS. 

moments  ago,  near  the  window  in  the  draw- 
ing-room." 

"Yes  I  do,  too  well." 

"  And  you,  lieutenant?." 

"I  remember  it." 

"  I  hardly  know  what  to  think  of  it  —  we 
are  all  soldiers,  officers  —  and  yet  the  fact 
speaks  for  itself;  the  watch  was  here,"  laying 
his  hand  upon  his  fob ;  "ten  minutes  have 
hardly  passed,  and  it  has  disappeared." 

By  this  time  the  guests  were  beginning  to 
look  as  if  stupefied,  and  each  one  began  to 
offer  suggestions,  but  without  the  slightest 
approach  toward  unravelling  the  strange 
mystery.  The  captain,  who  sat  next  to  the 
general  on  one  side,  rose,  and  said  with  a 
smile  half  comical,  half  disdainful,  "  I  should 
be  sorry  that  any  one  could  suspect  me.  I 
am  next  to  the  general,  but  not  to  play  so 
shabby,  unparliamentary  a  trick  as  this." 
And  putting  his  hands  into  his  pockets  he 
turned  them  out  to  the  seams. 

"  Nor  I,"  said  another. 

"  Nor  I." 


BREAD   AND   CHEESE.  195 

"  Nor  I."  And  each  one  in  turn  followed 
the  captain's  example,  laughing  and  shaking 
out  his  pockets.  The  general,  who  had 
risen  from  his  chair,  as  if  to  watch  the  search 
more  closely,  followed  the  operation  with 
his  eyes,  and  with  a  half  smile  hidden  under 
his  moustaches,  tried  to  smooth  over  the 
matter  and  to  turn  it  into  a  jest,  as  if  he 
regretted  his  haste  in  uttering  words  which 
seemed  too  sharp  and  offensive.  Only  one 
was  left,  the  young  officer  whom  the  general 
had  placed  at  his  right ;  but  when  his  turn 
came,  he  changed  countenance,  a  deep  flush 
ran  over  his  face  and  brow,  which  seemed 
to  burn.  Seeing  all  eyes  turned  toward 
him,  amid  the  deepest  silence,  he  excused 
himself  briefly,  expressing  his  regret  at 
being  unable  to  give  any  information  as  to 
the  missing  watch.  The  general  remained 
almost  breathless,  the  spirits  of  the  party 
were  completely  damped ;  the  words  were 
few  and  exchanged  at  long  intervals  ;  they 
seemed  afraid  to  look  each  other  in  the  face. 
There  was  no  sign  of  the  usual  coffee,  liq- 


196  A   BOOK  FOR   GIRLS. 

uors  and  cigars.  Every  one,  and  especially 
the  general,  seemed  anxious  to  get  away 
from  the  place,  to  breathe  freely,  and  to 
discuss  the  mysterious  occurrence.  As  soon 
as  they  had  dispersed,  the  whole  conversa- 
tion turned  upon  Liofredo,  the  unfortunate 
lieutenant.  Meetings  in  knots  of  two  or 
three,  they  spoke  in  a  low  tone,  and  asked 
each  other  what  the  strange  affair  could 
mean.  "  Who  would  have  thought  it?" 

"  As  for  me,  I  do  not  believe  him  capable 
of  such  an  action." 

"  Eh  !  He  may  have  debts  ;  and  debts 
sometimes  suggest  diabolical  counsels." 

"  Bah  I  "  interrupted  a  third,  "  even  for  a 
man  in  debt  it  would  be  a  senseless  proceed- 
ing, it  is  impossible." 


CHAPTER  II. 

LIOFREDO. 

JIOFREDO  was  a  young  man  of  about 
twenty-seven,  of  good  family,  hand- 
some person,  elegant  carriage  and  winning 
manners.  His  forehead  was  large,  his  eyes 
clear  and  calm,  and  his  complexion  even  at 
that  age,  fresh  and  ruddy  as  that  of  a  child ; 
and  as  an  offset  to  all,  he  wore  a  heavy  pair 
of  dark  moustaches,  which  drooped  grace- 
fully to  a  point  on  either  side,  and  accurately 
marked  the  division  between  the  cheeks  and 
the  chin  ;  this  was  the  only  weak  ambition 
that  Liofredo  knew.  These  external  graces 
of  person,  were  more  than  matched  by  his 
noble  qualities  of  heart ;  he  was  brave,  frank, 

197 


198  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

true,  disinterested,  and  far  above  any  thought 
of  meanness. 

At  the  Military  Academy,  if  he  was 
known  as  an  accomplished  rider  and  swords- 
man, his  reputation  was  equally  high  as  a 
scholar,  and  master  of  military  science.  On 
his  first  appearance  in  the  army,  he  attracted 
the  attention  of  all.  Not  that  he  made  him- 
self remarkable  by  novelties  or  peculiarities 
of  disposition  and  manner ;  on  the  contrary, 
he  fell  in  easily  with  all,  and  was  a  most 
cheerful  and  desirable  companion ;  yet  he 
did  not  throw  himself  without  reserve,  into 
all  kinds  of  company ;  he  was  seldom  seen 
in  the  theatre,  less  frequently  at  late  enter- 
tainments, but  he  never  spent  a  day  without 
giving  some  hours  to  study.  This  was  no 
secret,  and  those  of  his  companions  who 
sometimes  rallied  him  about  it,  far  from 
attributing  it  to  littleness  of  heart,  or  a  nig- 
gardly fear  of  expense,  paid  him  the  secret 
homage  of  sincere  admiration.  Besides, 
Liofredo  held  the  rank  of  instructor  among 
the  officers,  and  whenever  any  one  of  them 


BREAD   AND   CHEESE.  199 

happened  to  he  unable  to  do  duty,  he  was 
always  ready  to  take  his  place,  and  to  expose 
himself  to  the  inconveniencies  of  wind  and 
weather,  to  serve  a  brother  officer.  While 
drilling  the  companies,  he  sometimes  stood 
by  the  corporal,  and  gave  the  words  of 
attention  and  manual ;  and  woe  to  the  ser- 
geant who  used  a  recruit  roughly  in  his 
presence. 

He  also  practised  the  young  sub-lieuten- 
ant in  fencing.  Those  who  called  upon  him, 
generally  found  him  in  his  modest  apart- 
ment, furnished  and  decorated  by  his  own 
taste  and  hand ;  the  walls  were  covered  with 
scenes  of  war,  redoubts,  intrenched  camps, 
military  strongholds,  fortifications,  and  all 
manner  of  permanent  or  movable  works. 
It  was  a  real  military  museum.  Amid  so 
many  warlike  scenes,  there  was  one  picture 
of  peaceful  inspiration,  a  Madonna  of  con- 
siderable size,  and  of  sweetest  expression,  a 
photographed  Sassoferrato.  As  soon  as  one 
of  the  young  officers  entered  his  room,  he 
rose  at  once,  received  him  with  a  cordial 


200  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

grasp  of  the  hand,  and  an  honest,  open, 
kindly  expression  of  friendship ;  then  tak- 
ing down  the  foils,  he  examined  the  button, 
and  placed  the  instrument  in  the  hand  of  the 
learner.  It  sometimes  happened  that  while 
he  was  engaged  with  his  pupils,  his  friends 
examined  the  titles  of  the  books,  which 
constituted  the  library  of  his  little  study ; 
Montecuccoli,  Borgo,  Charles  of  Austria, 
Jomini,  and  many  other  Italian  and  foreign 
strategists.  In  the  midst  of  all  this  earthly 
strategy,  as  if  unconscious  of  the  nature  of 
their  neighbors,  lay  some  works  treating 
of  the  tactics  of  heaven, — a  copy  of  the 
Love  of  God,  by  Saint  Francis  of  Sales,  and 
an  imitation,  with  gilt  edges,  but  evidently 
much  used  and  almost  worn  out.  As  they 
read  the  titles  of  these  works,  the  young 
officers  exchanged  significant  glances,  or 
pointed  them  out  silently  to  one  another, 
and  then  turned  to  the  fencers. 

One  afternoon,  as  Liofredo  was  unusually 
animated  in  the  exercise,  and  was  perspiring 
profusely,  though  he  had  thrown  off  his  coat 


BREAD   AND    CHEESE.  201 

before  setting  to  work,  his  adversary  aimed 
a  thrust  at  his  breast,  and  came  very  near 
pushing  his  point  into  his  ribs ;  he  parried 
the  blow,  and  sent  the  point  over  his  left 
shoulder ;  but  he  had  not  been  quick  enough 
and  the  extremity  of  the  foil  grazing  the 
shoulder,  tore  away  a  large  shred  of  linen 
from  his  shirt.  A  silver  crucifix  of  good 
size,  which  hung  upon  his  breast,  was  un- 
fastened by  the  shock,  and  thrown  violently 
against  the  wall.  One  of  the  young  men 
who  was  present,  picked  it  up  with  an  ex- 
pression of  some  surprise.  But  Liofredo 
was  in  an  instant  at  his  side,  and  taking  the 
crucifix  in  his  hand,  he  brushed  it  with  his 
sleeve,  and  replaced  it  upon  his  breast,  in 
the  presence  of  all,  saying  to  the  one  who 
had  handed  il  to  him  :  "It  was  given  me  by 
my  mother  on  the  day  of  my  First  Commun- 
ion ;  T  never  lay  it  aside  -either  in  feigned  or 
in  real  battle,  and  I  hope  to  die  with  it 
here."  And  without  more  ado  he  returnsd 
to  his  work. 

Those  of  his   pupils   who   were  wealthy 


202  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

remunerated  him  for  his  lessons,  and  he  ac- 
cepted it  without  any  false  shame  ;  but  if  one 
of  the  others  spoke  to  him  of  money  :  "  My 
friend,"  said  he,  "'I  use  my  hands  and  my 
foil  to  open  my  pores,  and  by  way  of  a  little 
exercise.  Say  no  more  about  money,  or  we 
are  no  longer  friends."  And  it  was  said 
so  frankly  and  honestly  that  no  one  ever 
doubted  the  truth  of  his  reasons. 

But  there  was  one  trait  of  Liofredo's 
character  which  appeared  to  a  perfection  not 
only  uncommon,  but  even  wonderful :  it  was 
his  affection  for  his  aged  mother.  When 
there  was  any  possibility  of  her  residing  in 
the  place  where  he  happened  to  be  stationed, 
he  never  failed  to  secure  respectable  lodg- 
ings for  her  in  the  most  healthy  quarter  of 
the  city.  After  dinner  the  officers  met  in 
the  cafe  to  play  and  to  read  the  Gazette  Mili- 
taire.  But  Liofredo  generally  spent  that 
time  in  walking  out  with  his  aged  mother ; 
it  was  a  beautiful  sight  to  see  with  what  care 
he  measured  his  steps  to  hers,  how  he  leaned 
towards  her,  that  his  tall  form  might  be  no 


BREAD    AND    CHEESE.  203 

inconvenience,  and  gave  her  his  arm  with  an 
affectionate  attention,  that  looked  like  the 
very  triumph  pf  filial  love.  The  venerable 
old  lady,  when  she  saw  by  her  side  the  noble 
form  of  her  son,  with  his  bright  epaulettes, 
in  a  position  which  did  him  so  much  honor, 
and  admired  by  all,  seemed  to  regain  all  her 
youthful  freshness  and  vigor.  The  mother 
who  met  them  could  not  forbear  saying,  with 
a  pardonable  envy,  "  Happy  is  the  mother, 
who  has  such  a  support  in  her  declining 
years  ! "  But  the  best  sight  of  all  was  to 
see  him  accompany  his  mother  to  Mass  on 
holidays.  He  always  came  in  full  uniform, 
went  himself  to  bring  a  chair  for  the  vener- 
able lady,  and  taking  off  his  sword,  out  of 
respect  for  the  holy  place,  hung  it  at  the 
back  of  a  chair  or  bench.  At  the  close  of 
the  service,  he  waited  until  the  crowd  had 
dispersed,  and  returned  as  he  had  come. 
When  his  position  made  it  unadvisable  to 
have  his  mother  near  him,  he  left  her  in 
charge  of  an  old  family  servant,  upon  whose 
care  and  affection  for  her  he  could  safely 


204  A    BOOK    FOR    GIRLS. 

rely.  He  never  failed  to  write  to  his  mother 
at  least  once  a  week,  and  when  it  was  possi- 
ble, to  visit  her  in  person,  on  which  occa- 
sions the  happiness  of  both  was  at  its  height. 
Such  was  Liofredo,  and  such  was  he 
known  to  be  both  by  his  equals  and  his 
superiors:  such,  too,  was  he  in  the  eyes  of 
Agnes,  —  Agnes  the  good,  the  amiable,  the 
beautiful  daughter  of  the  general.  Between 
him  and  Agnes  there  had  long  been  a  secret 
understanding ;  and  expressions  of  love,  as 
pure  and  honorable  as  it  was  deep  and  ardent, 
had  passed  between  them ;  and  now  they 
hoped  that  heaven  would  soon  crown  their 
prayers  with  success,  when  the  unfortunate 
affair  of  the  watch  threatened  to  blight  all 
their  fond  anticipation.  But  what  was  the 
origin  of  that  sentiment  which  was  now 
threatened  with  extinction  in  those  two  noble 
hearts  ? 


CHAPTER  III. 

AGNES     AND    THE    BROOCH. 

jjGNES,  the  only  daughter,  the  sole  de- 
light of  her  fond  parents,  was  closing 
the  fourth  lustre  of  her  young  life,  It 
was  but  a  few  years  since  she  had  ended  her 
studies  in  a  convent  of  the  Ladies  of  the 
Sacred  Heart,  and  she  had  not  been  long 
moving  in  society,  when  she  found  herself 
the  object  of  assidious  attentions  from  more 
youths  than  one.  Towards  the  close  of  the 
season  of  Carnival,  there  was  a  private  ball 
at  the  general's  ;  and  Agnes,  who  never  went 
to  balls,  could  not  well  refuse  her  presence 
at  this  domestic  reunion.  A  young  man, 
of  noble  family,  who  had  just  led  her  to  a 

205 


206  A   BOOK  FOR   GIRLS. 

seat,  after  the  last  dance,  while  pretending 
to  be  engaged  in  restoring  a  brooch  which 
she  had  dropped,  addressed  her  in  an  under- 
tone :  "You  must  certainly  have  perceived 
ere  now,  what  my  sentiments  towards  you 
have  always  been ;  give  me  some  answer ; 
for  if  your  heart  does  not  deem  me  too  un- 
worthy" of  its  affection,  the  very  day  that 
gives  me  this  assurance,  will  make  the  gen- 
eral, your  father,  acquainted  with  my  inten- 
tions and  my  request  in  your  regard." 

Agnes  cast  down  her  eyes,  and  replied, 
while  a  deep  blush  mantled  her  face  and 
brow,  "Sir,  I  esteem  no  one  more  than 
yourself,  and  I  feel  honored  by  your  propo- 
sal ;  but  I  am  not  altogether  at  liberty,  and 
I  hope  that  you  may  meet  with  one  more 
worthy  of  your  affection.  " 

Agnes'  mother  seemed  during  the  short 
passage,  to  be  absorbed  in  the  music  and 
quadrilles  ;  besides,  as  mistress  of  the  house, 
she  was  obliged  to  see  that  the  usual  refresh- 
ments were  attended  to  by  the  servants  in 
attendance ;  but,  like  a  watchful  and  provi- 


BREAD   AXD   CHEESE.  207 

dent  mother,  she  never  lost  sight  of  her 
daughter,  especially  while  in  the  company 
of  the  young -men  who  sought  her  presence. 
She  h:ul  seen  the  brooch  fall,  and  though  she 
could  not  hear  the  words,  the  action  of  the 
youth  who  restored  it,  with  a  longer  delay 
than  was  at  all  necessary  in  brushing  and  re- 
adjusting the  pin,  did  not  escape  her  atten- 
tion, nor  the  deep  blush  which  remained 
upon  the  countenance  of  Agnes,  even  after 
the  departure  of  the  gentleman,  who  left 
her  silent  and  seemingly  unconscious  of 
everything  around  her.  The  mother  under- 
stood that  something  had  happened,  but  she 
kept  her  counsel,  and  awaited  a  favorable 
opportunity  to  speak. 

On  the  first  Sunday  in  Lent,  Agnes  had 
gone  to  church  very  early;. in  the  evening, 
her  mother  finding  herself  alone  with  her, 
"  My  dear  Agnes,"  said  she,  "  you  have  now 
reached  the  age  at  which  most  young  girls 
think  of  marriage''  (here  the  blood  began  to 
appear  in  the  cheeks  of  the  maiden)  ;  "what 
is  to  be  your  future  lot,  I  cannot  say  ;  but  if 


208  A  BOOK  FOR  GIRLS. 

you  have  ever  given  the  affections  of  your 
heart  to  one  who  may  be  worthy  of  }four 
hand,  you  should  certainly  not  conceal  it 
from  me,  since  I  am  your  mother  and  love 
you  most  tenderly.  Tell  me  plainly  what 
Was  that  affair  of  the  brooch,  and  the  mys- 
terious conversation  with  the  young  gentle- 
man in  the  corner,  near  the  book-case,  on 
the  night  of  the  ball  ?  " 

Agnes,  though  some  what  confused,  frankly 
replied,  "  You  have  a  right  to  know  all 
that  concerns  me,  and  I  am  not  ashamed  to 
make  it  all  known  to  you.  The  gentleman 
said  so  and  so,  and  I  gave  him  a  decisive 
answer." 

' '  A  decisive  answer  ?    What  did  you  say." 

* '  That  my  affections  were  already  given 
to  another." 

"  But  that  was  acting  a  little  too  hastil}r. 
I  am  very,  very  far,  my  dear  child,  from 
wishing  to  give  you  any  advice  unworthy 
either  of  you  or  of  myself.  Yet  I  cannot  let 
this  pass  without  reminding  you  that  this 
young  man  is  of  a  good  family,  excellent 


BREAD    AND    CHEESE.  209 

character,  rich,  and  gifted  with  every  attrac- 
tive quality ;  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  we  are 
better  off  in.  honor  than  in  wealth.  You 
might  have  answered  with  more  discretion  : 
that  you  would  think  of  the  matter,  that  you 
must  speak  to  your  mother,  or  a  hundred 
other  little  things  of  the  same  kind." 

"  I  should  not  have  told  the  truth,"  said 
Agnes. 

"  And  why?"  asked  her  mother. 

"  Because,  in  truth,  it  is  no  longer  a  mat- 
ter of  deliberation." 

"No  longer  a  matter  of  deliberation?" 
exclaimed  the  mother.  "  That  is  no  reason. 
I  think  I  know  the  true  reason  ;  and  if  you 
will  acknowledge  the  truth,  you  have  already 
given  your  heart  to  another,  far  inferior, 
Liofredo, — " 

The  mention  of  that  name  brought  a  deep 
blush  to  the  cheeks  of  the  young  girl  and 
she  interposed,  though  in  a  most  respectful 
tone.  "It  would  be  hard  to  determine 
which  is  the  better  or  the  worse  ;  and  now, 
as  I  should  not  wish  to  have  the  remembrance 


210  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

of  any  insincerity  upon  my  conscience,  I 
confess,  mother,  that  my  heart  is  given  to 
Liofredo  ;  I  hope  that  God  may  grant  our 
wishes,  and  that  you  will  be  satisfied." 

"  And  is  Liofredo  acquainted  with  your 
feelings  towards  him?" 

4 '  I  believe  that  he  has  no  doubt  about 
them." 

"  How  did  he  discover  them?"  continued 
Agnes'  interlocutor. 

"  We  have  very  often  met  on  the  walks  ; 
and  in  going  to  Mass  we  have  happened  to 
enter  more  than  once  at  the  same  moment ; 
then  he  lowered  his  eyes  and  I  pretended  to 
be  looking  in  my  book  ;  but  I  am  afraid  that 
my  looks  betrayed  much  more  than  I  would 
have  wished  to  show.  One  day  he  came  to 
make  a  report  to  father,  and  finding  me  alone 
in  the  hall,  he  asked  me  if  he  might  speak 
to  you, — " 

"  Which  he  has  not  yet  done,"  interrupted 
the  mother. 

"He  was  waiting  for  his  captain's  com- 
mission." 


BREAD    AND    CHEESE.  211 

"But  do  you  know  well,"  continued  the 
careful  parent,  "who  this  Liofredo  is?  He 
has  a  pretty  name,  and  a  fine  pair  of  mous- 
taches ;  and  besides  these,  no  lineage,  not  a 
foot  of  land  to  his  name  ;  and  simply  be- 
cause he  is  a  brave  youth,  will  you  be  con- 
tent to  eke  out  your  existence  on  a  slender 
salary?" 

"That  never  entered  my  mind,"  replied 
Agnes;  "and,  besides,  I  have  no  desire  of 
becoming  a  princess.  His  captain's  salary, 
and  whatever  trifle  it  may  please  you  to  al- 
low me,  will  be  more  than  enough,  if  I  am 
with  Liofredo.  Have  you  not  seen  how 
kindly  he  supports  his  aged  mother  upon  his 
arm,  as  though  he  had  a  bouquet  of  flowers  ! 
I  made  inquiries  about  him,  and  I  was  told 
that  he  is  as  careful  of  her  as  if  she  were  a 
pearl,  and  attends  her  like  a  servant.  Then 
I  could  not  help  saying  to  myself,  '  I  may 
have  less  jewelry,  less  ornaments,  fewer  liv- 
eries, but  I  shall  have  a  noble  and  affectionate 
heart  that  will  care  for  me  sincerely.'  Then 
I  have  seen  him  at  church,  at  the  sermons, 


212  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

behind  the  pillars ;  and  when  he  comes  in  he 
blesses  himself  with  the  sign  of  the  cross 
from  one  epaulette  to  the  other ;  the  priest 
at  the  altar  could  not  do  it  better.  And  on 
the  feasts  of  the  Madonna,  I  know  that  he 
always  comes  to  Communion  early  in  the 
morning  in  the  Church  of  the  Friars,  here 
at  the  Monte.  Where  can  we  find  a  truer 
nobleman?"  Here  Agnes'  lips  began  to 
quiver,  her  eyes  were  fast  filling,  and  two 
great  tears  rolled  down  her  cheeks,  now 
crimsoned  with  the  hue  of  virtuous  bashful- 
ness. 

The  general's  wife  was  a  lady  of  truly 
Christian  principles,  and  of  no  less  discre- 
tion. She  was  convinced  that  her  daughter 
had  chosen  what  was  most  desirable,  a  true 
heart  and  a  sterling  virtue ;  and,  as  she 
thought  of  the  noble  and  gentle  manners  of 
the  poor,  but  yet  promising,  accomplished 
young  officer,  she  believed  that  after  all,  she 
could  not  hope  for  a  more  desirable  son-in- 
law.  She  accordingly  said, — 

11  Agnes,  there   is   no   need   for   tears ;  I 


BREAD   AND   CHEESE.  213 

should  be  sorry  to  give  you  any  cause  of 
grief,  and  your  father,  I  hope,  will  offer 
no  opposition.  I  shall  take  the  first  oppor- 
tunity of  speaking  to  him  about  it ;  mean- 
while be  careful,  and  give  no  occasion  for 
remarks." 

That  same  evening  the  general  was  ac- 
quainted with  the  whole  matter.  He  at  first 
seemed  little  disposed  to  incline  to  his  wife's 
view  of  the  subject,  for  he  was  of  the  opin- 
ion that  his  daughter,  though  not  very  richly 
dowered,  could  yet  very  reasonably  look 
somewhat  higher.  "  She  has  a  noble  heart," 
said  he,  "  a  finished  education,  she  is  as 
good  and  modest  as  an  angel,  attractive,  and 
the  daughter  of  a  general ;  she  can  certainly 
expect  the  most  desirable  offers."  Yet  there 
was  something  in  Liofredo  which  fell  in  with 
the  general's  disposition ;  and  he  finally 
yielded  to  the  mother's  arguments  and  said 
good-naturedly,  "Agnes  will  do  like  you, 
and  Liofredo  like  me.  He  is  certainly  a 
young  man  of  the  greatest  promise,  and  as 
for  the  captaincy,  I  know  that  his  name  is  on 


214 


A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 


the  list  in  the  minister's  portfolio.  He  will 
not  have  to  wait  long  for  the  nomination, 
and,  in  fact,  I  could  give  the  matter  a  push, 
if  need  be." 


CHAPTER    IV. 

FOUR   STORMS   IN   AN   HOUR. 

|UCH  was  the  position  of  affairs  on  the 
day  of  the  review,  on  the  Plaza  d'Ar- 
mes.  The  general  had  placed  Liofredo  next 
to  him  at  table,  for  the  express  purpose  of 
sounding  his  disposition  more  thoroughly  in 
the  increased  openness  and  freedom  from 
restraint  generally  felt  in  the  convival  enjoy- 
ment of  a  banquet.  In  his  heart  he  al- 
ready considered  him  as  his  son-in-law ; 
still  he  had  warned  Agnes  to  be  careful,  and 
not  to  discover  her  feelings  too  openly. 
She  obeyed  as  well  as  she  could ;  and  yet, 
when  the  poor  girl  saw  the  issue  of  the  affair, 
which  had  begun  in  the  playful  self-search- 
ing, and  the  display  of  pockets,  and  marked 

215 


216  A   BOOK   FOK  GIRLS. 

Liofredo's  changed  color,  amid  the  deep 
silence,  which  then  reigned  about  the  festal 
board,  she  was  seized  with  so  violent  a  pal- 
pitation of  the  heart,  that  she  was  very  near 
fainting.  But  God  gave  her  strength  to 
keep  her  self-command,  during  the  short  time 
that  still  remained,  to  the  end  of  the  meal ; 
and  as  soon  as  she  had  risen  from  the  table, 
she  hurried  to  her  own  room,  and  fastening 
it  on  the  inside,  she  burst  into  a  flood  of 
bitter  tears.  Her  frame  was  shaken  with 
convulsive  sobs,  and  her  trembling  limbs 
refused  to  support  her ;  she  sunk  upon  a 
lounge,  where  she  lay  for  some  time,  bathed 
in  tears,  and  overwhelmed  by  her  first  great 
sorrow. 

Upon  a  little  table  near  the  lounge  on 
which  Agnes  had  fallen,  stood  a  Madonna 
della  Consolata*  of  porcelain,  of  a  most  de- 
vout attitude,  and  affectionate  expression. 
It  had  been  given  to  her  as  a  reward  of 
merit,  by  her  religious  instructors,  and  for 

*  The  Blessed  Virgin  is  known,  under  this  title,  in  a 
shrine  of  great  renown  at  Turin. 


BREAD   AND   CHEESE.  217 

their  sake,  as  well  as  on  account  of  her  own 
devotion,  she  held  it  in  the  highest  esteem. 
In  the  opening  spring  she  used  to  set  be- 
fore it  bouquets  of  fresh  flo\vers,  —  the 
earliest  violets,  the  first  anemones,  and  the 
sweetest  roses  and  jonquils.  Morning  and 
evening,  her  long  and  pious  devotions  were 
performed  at  the  feet  of  her  Madonna ;  and 
in  the  times  of  her  little  trials,  it  was  her 
custom  to  seek  comfort  and  strength  at  her 
little  shrine,  where  she  would  then  recite 
the  whole  Rosary  on  her  knees.  In  this 
hour  of  real  sorrow,  she  raised  her  eyes 
almost  unconsciously  to  the  figure  of  her 
Mother,  and  suddenly  a  ray  of  light  seemed 
to  dart  into  her  soul  ;  she  instinctively  threw 
herself  upon  her  knees,  and  raising  her 
clasped  hands  in  supplication  towards  the 
sweet  Virgin,  so  truly  the  Consoler  of  the 
afflicted ;  the  anguish  of  her  heart  found 
vent  in  a  tender  petition.  "Oh,  my  sweet 
Mother,  if  thou  hast  ever  helped  me  before 
in  my  troubles,  come  to  my  assistance  now. 
Liofredo  is  certainly  innocent ;  and  as  I 


218  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

have  loved  him  with  a  pure  and  holy  affec- 
tion, now  help  us  both."  And  with  her  fair 
head  bowed  at  the  feet  of  the  Madonna,  she 
prayed  fervently,  though  it  was  more  by 
silence  than  by  words. 

It  was  nearly  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before 
Agnes  rose  from  her  knees  ;  feeling  her  soul 
refreshed  and  strengthened  by  her  prayer, 
she  bathed  her  face  and  eyes  with  cold  water 
—  arranged  her  hair  and  put  into  a  waste- 
basket  some  little  pieces  of  unfinished  needle- 
work, and  went  to  the  sitting-room,  where 
she  usualty  spent  some  moments  after  dinner, 
either  in  embroidering,  with  her  mother,  or 
in  reading  parts  of  some  newspaper  to  het 
father. 

On  this  day,  however,  the  general,  with- 
out speaking  a  word  to  any  one,  had  with- 
drawn immediately  after  dinner  to  his  study. 
Taking  a  sheet  of  paper,  he  folded  it  and 
wrote  : 

LIEUTENANT  :  —  I  shall  expect  you  at  my 
office  at  eight  o'clock  this  evening. 

He    signed   the    brief  summons,    rung   a 


BREAD   AND   CHEESE.  219 

little  bell,  and  handed  the  note  to  the  man 
who  answered  the  call,  but  with  a  lowering 
brow,  which'  plainly  showed  the  attendant 
that  a  storm  was  impending,  and  would  not 
be  long  delayed.  He  contented  himself, 
however,  with  a  simple  "  Yes,  sir,"  gave  the 
military  salute,  and  proceeded  to  Liofredo's 
quarters. 

As  soon  as  the  man  had  left  the  room,  the 
general,  stretching  himself  out  in  his  chair, 
leaned  his  cheek  upon  his  left  hand,  clenched 
the  other  tightly,  struck  his  desk  violently, 
as  he  said,  in  a  low,  decided  tone  : 

*'  Either  Liofredo  shall  clear  himself  of 
every  suspicion  of  this  villany,  or  I  shall 
make  him  rue  the  day  when  he  incurred  it. 
What !  if  a  gentleman,  an  officer,  may  plun- 
der his  general  in  his  own  house,  and  at  his 
table,  what  are  we  to  do  to  the  robber  on 
the  highway?  And  Agnes  is  insanely  enam- 
ored of  this  fine  fellow ;  and  her  mother, 
now  too,  is  caught  in  the  net !  Why  I  ever 
consented  to  such  a  match !  I  was  too 
qu;ck  by  half.  But,  now  I  shall,  once  for 


220  A   J5OOK  FOR  GIRLS. 

all,  remove  this  worm  which  is  tormenting 
her." 

With  this  resolution  he  rose  and  proceeded 
to  the  boudoir.  Agnes  remarked  the  frown 
and  the  hands  resolutely  clasped  behind  his 
back,  as  he  crossed  the  room,  without  a 
word,  and  her  heart  fell.  She  saw  the  dark 
cloud  above  her,  and  awaited  the  storm  in 
silence.  The  general  spoke,  in  a  voice  ren- 
dered deep  and  trembling  by  his  efforts  to 
restrain  his  feelings,  Ii3  began,  by  blaming 
himself  for  yielding  so  readily  to  their 
wishes ;  then  turning  to  his  wife,  he  warned 
her  to  be  more  careful  for  the  future,  in 
matters  of  such  a  nature,  and  never  again 
to  speak  to  him  of  any  match  until  she 
had  long  and  maturely  deliberated  upon  ths 
matter  herself :  that  these  were  not  matters 
to  be  considered  in  a  day,  and  that  it  was 
not  prudent  to  follow  every  fancy  that  flits 
through  the  brain  of  young  girls,  that  she 
should  carefully  examine  the  character  arid 
habits  of  persons,  for,  although  one  who,  at 
first  sight,  looked  like  a  golden  goblot,  might 


BREAD    AND    CHEESE.  221 

turn  out   to  bo  a  worthless   scamp.     Then 
addressing  his  daughter,  he  continued  : 

"Agnes,  you  are  but  a  child,  and  have 
not  yet  learned  that  all  is  not  gold  that 
glitters.  Now  see  what  shame  would  have 
fallen  upon  us  all,  had  this  hare-brained 
fancy  of  yours  been  known  by  any  but  our- 
selves ;  we  should  be  the  common  talk  of 
the  city.  Thank  Heaven,  I  think  that  your 
folly  is  cured  now,  and  so  it  must  be,  if  you 
wish  to  cull  me  father  any  more." 

To  enforce  this  last  sentiment,  the  general 
stamped  his  foot  with  some  energy,  when  a 
noise,  as  if  something  falling  and  rolling 
along  the  floor,  was  heard. 

' '  The  watch  ! "  cried  Agnes  and  her 
mother,  in  the  same  breath  ;  "  the  watch  !  " 

It  was,  in  fact,  the  watch,  which  had  evi- 
dently slipped  through  an  unperceived  rent 
in  the  general's  fob,  and  slid  into  the  lining. 
The  sudden  and  energetic  movement  of  ths 
general  had  dislodged  it,  and  rolling  down 
to  the  floor,  solved  tli3  whole  mystery. 

An  explanation  so  plain,  so  complete,  and 


222  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

unanswerable,  had  caused  a  complete  change 
of  scene.  And  now  began  a  counter  move- 
ment. The  mother  heaved  a  deep  sigh  of 
relief,  and  joined  her  hands.  Agnes  picked 
up  the  watch,  held  it  a  moment  at  her  ear, 
and  exclaimed : 

"Papa,  it  is  not  hurt:  ah,  papa!"  she 
added,  with  a  sigh,  as  she  placed  it  in  his 
hand,  "that  you  should  have  made  me  suffer 
so  !  I  knew  very  well  that  Liofredo  couldn't 
be  guilty  of  anything  so  base.  I  asked  the 
Madonna  to  take  the  matter  in  hand,  and  she 
has  heard  me." 

The  heart  of  the  poor  father  was  besieged 
at  once  by  a  thousand  different  emotions. 
The  most  powerful  one  was  a  feeling  of  shame 
and  sorrow  at  the  very  thought  of  having  so 
unjustly  pained  his  innocent  child.  Pater- 
nal love  was  working  in  his  heart ;  his  lips 
began  to  quiver,  and  he  might  have  found  it 
impossible  to  control  his  feelings  had  he  not 
turned  away,  and  hastily  quitted  the  apart- 
ment. 

As  he  was  leaving  the  room,  he  remem- 


BREAD    AND    CHEESE.  223 

bered  the  laconic  note,  which  he  had  written 
to  the  unfortunate  young  officer,  of  the  effect 
it  might  have  upon  him,  who  had  been  guilty 
of  no  other  fault  than  that  of  being  his  neigh- 
bor at  table,  and  at  his  invitation,  too.  He 
would  have  wished  to  recall  the  messenger , 
but  it  was  too  late. 

"And  then,"  he  repeated,  "that  noble 
young  man  is  dishonored  in  the  estimation 
of  the  whole  garrison.  Why  did  I  not  think 
of  the  natural  solution,  — that  my  fob  might 
be  torn?  And  even  so,  why  could  he  not 
do  like  the  others  !  It  was  a  mere  joke  ;  the 
rest  had  all  done  it.  True,  the  fault  is  all 
mine  ;  but  yet,  writh  that  haughty  manner  of 
his,  he  has  brought  the  difficulty  upon  him- 
self. However,  he  will  soon  be  here,  and 
then  we  can  manage  matters  better  by  a  tete- 
a-tete,  and  this  evening  or  to-morrow  I  can 
easily  make  the  necessary  reparation,  as 
there  arc  a  hundred  ways." 

While  these  events  were  passing  at  the 
general's,  Liofredo  was  still  tossed  by  the 
storm  which  had  been  raised  about  him.  On 


22i  A    BOOK    FOR    GIRLS. 

reaching  bis  quarters  he  threw  his  cap  upon 
the  lounge,  and  with  his  arms  tightly  folded 
over  his  breast,  stood  erect  for  a  moment, 
and  then  began  slowly  shaking  his  head 
backward  and  forward.  Then  he  began 
pacing  the  room  with  quick  and  heavy  step ; 
he  paused  from  time  to  time,  and  fixed  his 
eyes  upon  the  ceiling  or  the  floor,  but  with 
the  look  of  a  man  who  sees  nothing.  He 
continued  for  a  long  while  to  walk  the  floor 
like  a  caged  lion,  and  buried  in  gloomy 
thoughts  ;  then  stopping  suddenly  before  the 
table,  he  took  up  his  little  Kempis,  and 
opening  it  at  a  venture,  he  read  the  words  : 
"  Where  is  thy  faith?  Stand  firm  and  per- 
severe. Be  long  suffering  and  constant ;  the 
consolation  will  come  in  good  time."  Clos- 
ing the  book,  he  raised  his  eyes  to  Heaven, 
and  s;iid  : 

"  Lord,  by  thy  mercy,  my  heart  is  pure  ; 
my  honor  is  in  thy  hands  ;  whatever  fortune 
awaits  me,  be  it  for  good  or  evil,  shall  leave 
me  unmoved  by  its  attack  ; "  and  to  strengthen 


BREAD   AND   CHEESE.  225 

the  resolution,  he  then  pressed  his  crucifix 
close  to  his  heart. 

At  this  moment,  the  general's  orderly  ar- 
rived with  tli6  'brief  summons.  The  young 
lieutenant  read  the  note  without  betraying 
the  least  emotion,  and  said  in  a  steady,  firm 
voice  :  * '  Tell  the  general  I  shall  come  with- 
out fail." 


CHAPTER   V: 

A   GENERAL   CLEARING   UP. 

JT  was  striking  eight  just  as  Liofredo 
was  ushered  into  the  presence  of  the 
general,  who  was  somewhat  surprised  at  his 
composure,  since  he  could  not  certainly 
know  anything  about  the  finding  of  the 
watch ;  and  besides,  the  general  felt  a  little 
embarrassed  at  his  own  position.  He  felt 
like  a  criminal  at  the  bar;  the  words  died 
away  on  his  lips,  and  he  hardly  knew  how  to 
open  the  conversation.  However,  he  over- 
came himself  sufficiently  to  utter  the  first 
greetings  with  some  degree  of  cordiality  and 
affection. 

Liofredo  awaited  the  attack  with  calmness 

226 


BREAD   AND    CHEESE.  227 

and  silence.  But  there  was  no  attack.  The 
general  began  by  expressing  his  regret  for 
the  occurrence  .at  the  table,  assured  him  of 
his  personal  esteem,  excused  himself  for 
having  allowed  the  game  to  go  so  far,  declar- 
ing that  he  would  certainly  have  checked  it 
had  he  foreseen  the  consequences. 

"Certainly,"  replied  Liofredo,  "I  was 
taken  a  little  by  surprise  ;  and  the  affair  took 
a  more  serious  turn  than  was  promised  in 
the  beginning.  I  am  grateful,  however,  for 
this  expression  of  good  feeling  on  your  part, 
general." 

"I  never  had  a  moment's  doubt  on  the 
subject  of  your  honor,"  the  general  replied. 

"  I  believe  you,"  interrupted  Liofredo, 
"  I  am  too  sure  of  my  honor.  I  think  that 
there  is  a  sufficient  disparity  between  my 
actions  and  those  of  a  cut-purse,  to  save  all 
danger  of  confusion." 

"  I  perceive  that  you  have  been  somewhat 
disturbed ;  I  sympathize  with  }rou,  and  ac- 
knowledge that  I  have,  indeed,  given  you 
sufficient  occasion  for  it.  But  now,  lieuten- 


228  A   HOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

ant,  I  beg  of  you  to  compose  yourself;  the 
affair  occurred  so-and-so.  See  how  a  mere 
trifle  has  spoiled  all  the  pleasure  of  the  day." 

Liofredo  breathed  freely  once  more.  His 
features  assumed  a  more  cheerful  expression, 
though  without  showing  what  a  heavy  weight 
was  removed  from  his  heart ;  he  continued  : 

"  General,  it  has  always  been  my  endeavor 
to  keep  myself  clear  of  every  stain.  My 
honor  I  commit  to  God  ;  he  cannot  fail  me 
in  my  need.  At  any  rate,  not  every  misfor- 
tune is  sent  for  evil ;  let  us  consign  this  one 
to  oblivion,  and  you  have  it  in  your  power 
to  afford  me  some  happier  days  yet,  I  trust," 
exclaimed  Liofredo. 

"  God  grant  it.  But  if  I  may,  with  pro- 
priety, make  the  request,  I  should  like  you 
to  satisfy  my  curiosity  on  one  point,  before 
leaving  the  room." 

"What  may  it  be,  sir?"  asked  the  lieu- 
tenant. 

"  I  repeat  that  I  have  no  desire  to  pry 
into  your  secrets,  but  if  you  are  free  to  tell 
it,  what  could  hinder  you  from  doing  like 


BREAD   AXD   CHEESE.  229 

the  rest  of  the  company?  It  was  a  mere 
joke,  and  all  would  have  been  over  in  a 
second." 

"There  was,  and,  I  may  say,  there  is,  a 
reason,"  answered  Liofredo.  "  I  would  not 
tell  it  to  everybody  ;  but,  on  condition  that 
it  remained  enclosed  in  your  breast,  I  feel 
that,  on  this  occasion,  I  may  intrust  it  to 
you.  It  is  this  :  You  know  that  my  good 
mother  is  old  and  sickly.  When  we  lodge 
together  I  provide  for  her  necessities  pretty 
completely,  and  we  are  not  very  badly  off; 
but  when  we  are  separated,  as  is  the  case 
this  year,  I  cannot  well  pay  the  expenses  for 
both  lodgings.  Poor,  dear  mother  1  At  the 
death  of  my  father,  she  resolved  to  save  the 
honor  of  our  name  ;  she  paid  every  debt, 
and  remained  with  untarnished  honor  and 
her  own  dowry.  She  kept  me  at  the  Literary 
Academy,  though,  for  those  three  years  she 
was  obliged  to  put  herself  on  short  allowance 
of  food,  and  at  last  paid  the  last  cent  in  her 
purse.  And  now,  could  I  leave  her  to  take 
care  of  herself?  I  have  calculated  the  ex- 


230  A   BOOK  FOR  GIRLS. 

penses,  and  it  needs  so  much  to  bring  her  to 
the  end  of  the  month  ;  while  I,  on  the  other 
hand,  cannot  do  without  so  much.  The 
deficiency  would  amount  to  fifteen  francs  a 
month.  True,  I  have  some  money,  but  not 
sufficient  to  make  both  ends  meet.  I  have 
accordingly  settled  upon  a  fixed  plan  ;  the 
person  with  whom  I  board  makes  a  deduction 
for  the  days  on  which  I  do  not  dine  at  home, 
and  on  two  days  of  the  week,  since  you  wish 
to  know  it,  I  live  on  bread  and  cheese." 

The  general  opened  his  eyes  very  wide, 
in  evident  astonishment.  "  Yes,"  continued 
the  young  man,  "  on  bread  and  cheese.  I 
take  a  long  walk,  and  sit  down  by  some 
spring  in  the  country,  where  I  eat  my  slen- 
der meal  with  the  greatest  satisfaction ;  and 
return  with  even  greater  satisfaction  to  my 
quarters.  I  am  young  and  strong  ;  my  poor 
mother  could  not  do  without  those  fifteen 
francs  ;  I  owe  them  to  her  by  a  hundred  dif- 
ferent ways  ;  and,  even  though  I  felt  no  other 
obligation,  there  is  still  that  of  the  fourth 
commandment  of  God.  After  the  review, 


BREAD   AND   CHEESE.  231 

I  had  purchased  ray  provisions.  Your  invi- 
tation surprised  me  with  my  dinner  in  my 
pocket ;  and,  with  it,  I  found  myself  seated 
at  your  table.  Would  you  have  me  turn 
out  my  pockets,  to  make  such  a  display  be- 
fore the  whole  regiment?  And,  even  in- 
dependently of  this  motive,  I  felt  such  an 
unconquerable  repugnance  for  the  whole  pro- 
ceeding, that  I  do  not  think  that  I  could  have 
brought  myself  to  take  part  in  it  for  any 
consideration.  The  man  who  does  not  be- 
lieve my  word,  insults  me  too  grossly." 

The  general  was  deeply  moved.  Unable 
longer  to  restrain  his  feelings  of  admiration, 
he  seized  the  hand  of  the  youthful  officer, 
pressed  it  tightly  between  his  own,  and  looked 
him  full  in  the  face. 

"Liofredo,"  he  said,  with  a  trembling 
voice,  "  you  are  the  best  of  sons,  as  you  are 
also  the  bravest  officer  in  my  command. 
Let  me  beg  of  you  to  be  my  best  friend." 

"  That  may  be  now,  if  you  desire  it ;  but 
later,—" 

"  Let  me  be  the  first  in  that,  too.     Later, 


232  A  BOOK  FOE   GIRLS. 

too,  your  heart  shall  have  its  dearest  hopes 
fulfilled.  That  you  may  also  be  my  best 
friend,  I  consider  you,  from  this  moment,  my 
son-in-law.  Agnes  is  yours  !  " 

"  General !  "  exclaimed  Liofredo.  And 
here  the  emotions  which  filled  his  heart  made 
it  impossible  for  him  to  utter  another  word. 

**  Wait  a  moment,"  continued  the  general ; 
"  before  you  leave  the  house,  it  is  my  desire 
that  you  should  be  betrothed."  With  these 
words,  he  left  the  room,  and  returned  in 
about  twenty  minutes,  to  summon  Liofredo 
to  the  parlor,  where  he  found  the  general's 
wife  and  Agnes.  The  young  girl  had  made 
her  preparations  so  hurriedly,  that  she  had 
hardly  time  to  throw  herself  on  her  knees 
before  her  dear  Madonna,  with  the  thanks- 
giving : 

"  Oh !  Holy  Virgin,  the  favor  is  full ;  I 
thank  thee  !  " 

The  betrothal  was  made  without  display. 
One  circumstance,  however,  deserves  atten- 
tion. Liofredo,  wishing  to  make  some  little 
present  to  his  bride,  and  finding  nothing  else 


BREAD  AND  CHEESE.  233 

at  hand,  drew  out  a  rosary  of  coral  beads, 
strung  on  silver  wire,  and  threw  it  gracefully 
about  the  neck  of  his  betrothed.  The  mother 
then  remarked,  with  a  smile  : 

"  A  new  style  of  present  for  the  soldier's 
bride.  But  now,  Liofredo,  you  have  some- 
thing for  me,  too." 

**  And  what  may  it  be?"  asked  Liofredo. 

"  The  bread  of  the  fourth  commandment." 

"Oh!  as  to  that,—" 

"  Yes,  yes  !  "  exclaimed  both  ladies,  "  we 
wish  to  see  and  taste  it ! " 

"By  good  luck,"  said  the  young  officer, 
"I  have  had  neither  the  time,  nor  the 
thought,  to  put  it  away.  Here  is  the  blessed 
bread  that  could  have  served  me  so  curious 
a  turn."  And  he  drew  from  his  pocket  a 
goodly  slice  of  bread,  and  one  of  cheese,  to 
correspond. 

Agnes's  mother  received  the  paper  con- 
taining this  modest  meal,  and  began  to  cut  it 
into  pieces,  indulging,  all  the  while,  in 
humorous  and  playful  remarks.  Then,  tak- 
ing a  large  piece  in  her  hand,  she  left  the 


234  A   BOOK  FOR  GIRLS. 

room,  returning,  after  a  moment's  absence, 
with  a  costly  gold  casket,  set  with  diamonds. 

"  Look,  Agnes,"  said  she,  "  in  this  casket 
I  have  deposited  the  bread,  so  delicious  to 
the  taste,  and  to  the  heart  of  a  mother ;  and 
do  you  take  care  to  keep  it  until  my  hair  is 
grey,  like  that  of  Liofredo's  mother." 

She  closed  the  casket,  and  handed  it  to 
Agnes,  who  sprang  up,  and  threw  herself 
upon  her  mother's  neck. 

On  the  next  day,  nothing  was  talked  of 
but  the  betrothal  of  Liofredo  and  Agnes. 
After  Easter,  they  stood  before  the  altar,  to 
receive  the  Church's  blessing  upon  their 
union,  by  the  Holy  Sacrament  of  the  Church. 
Envied  of  men,  blessed  by  the  angels  ;  Agnes 
in  white,  Liofredo  with  the  epaulettes  of  a 
captain. 


THE  OPAL  STUD. 


CHAPTER  I. 

JT  the  outbreak  of  the  war,  there  lived 
on  the  Northern  frontier  of  France,  an 
humble  widow  (who  once  saw  better  days) 
and  her  family,  consisting  of  an  only  son, 
and  two  younger  daughters.  Her  son  Jean 
Jacques  (commonly  called  Jacques) ,  a  strap- 
ping young  fellow  of  twenty,  in  his  ardor 
and  chivalry,  had  gone  at  the  roll  of  the 
drum  to  defend  his  country  —  bidding  fare- 
well to  his  home,  and  begging  his  mother's 
blessing,  he  started  off  to  join  his  comrades. 

235 


236  A   BOOK  FOR   GIRLS. 

A  sad  household  he  left ;  before  many  weeks 
had  elapsed  they  found  themselves  so  un- 
protected from  the  inroads  of  the  enemy, 
that  they  determined  to  move  further  into 
the  interior ;  accordingly  they  gathered  to- 
gether their  scanty  relics  of  former  decency, 
and  travelled  as  best  they  could  to  the  re- 
tired little  village  of  P ,  which  they  de- 
termined to  make  their  home,  and  now  in 
the  midst  of  strangers  they  had  to  find  em- 
ployment of  some  kind  wherewith  to  sup- 
port themselves. 

Mere  Adele,  as  the  widow  was  called,  and 
her  younger  daughter  Annette,  found  ample 
to  do  at  home,  and  Marie,  a  young  girl  of 
seventeen,  after  ceaseless  efforts,  succeede  i 
in  getting  a  remunerative  occupation.  My 
story  opens  on  her  return  home,  with  her 
first  well-earned  wages,  delighted  to  think 
God  had  blessed  her  efforts  to  support  those 
she  loved  so  dearly. 

"Oh,  my  good  mother,"  said  Marie, 
"what  makes  you  look  so  sad?  See,  I 
have  been  well  paid,  and  have  ample  to  sup- 


THE    OPAL    STUD.  237 

port  us  for  some  time  ;  don't  be  fretful  over 
Jacques ;  he  is  brave,  and  will  return  to  do 
us  all  credit.  •  Come,  to-morrow  will  be 
Xmas  Eve  ;  let  us  have  one  of  your  old 
legends,  whilst  we  sit  up  to  our  cheerful  fire, 
and  thank  the  Holy  Virgin  for  all  the  com- 
forts we  have  obtained  through  her  inter- 
cession. It  is  bitter  cold  out,  and  the  wind 
is  piercing.  I  saw  so  many  miserable,  half- 
clad  people  on  the  road,  that  we  must  thank 
God  for  all  we  have  ;  however,  we  are  not 
in  a  very  poor  neighborhood.  I  think  there 
must  be  some  of  the  nobility  living  near  us, 
for  that  big  house  towards  the  East,  is 
lighted  up  so  grand  every  night,  and  —  oh  ! 
listen,  hark,  what  noise  is  that?"  all  three 
voices  cried  at  once.  "Some  one  in  dis- 
tress!— there,  hear  the  voice  again,  —  it 
must  be  murder,  —  what  shall  we  do  ?  " 

After  waiting  a  moment,  and  hearing  the 
same  pitiful  cry  for  help  again,  the  brave 
and  noble  Marie  could  no  longer  delay. 
Devoutly  blessing  herself,  and  throwing 
something  around  her,  she  called  for  the 


238  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

lantern,  saying:  "That's  a  woman's  voice, 
and  we  must  help  her.  Annette,  you  stay 
with  mother,  whilst  I  see  what  I  can  do  !  " 

"Oh!  oh!  my  darling  child,"  cried  her 
mother,  "do  not  uselessly  expose  yourself, 
not  only  to  the  fearful  blast,  but,"  — 

The  rest  of  the  sentence  was  unheard  by 
Marie,  for  to  think  with  her  was  to  act.  She 
had  scarcely  closed  the  door  when  the  voice 
of  distress  directed  her  footsteps,  whither 
she  hastened,  without  a  moment's  thought  of 
self-danger.  Guided  by  the  glimmer  of  her 
lantern,  she  made  her  way  over  to  a  crum- 
bled wall,  where,  in  the  midst  of  a  pile  of 
rubbish  sat  a  forlorn-looking  object,  still 
faintly  calling  for  help.  Marie  approached 
and  asked  : 

"  What  ails  you,  my  good  woman?" 

"Oh,  mon  Dieu ! "  cried  the  startled 
woman,  "I  thought  I  was  dead;  but  you 
frightened  the  life  into  me.  Who  are  you, 
and  who  sent  you?  Come,  help  me  up  — 
take  my  hand — very,  very  easy.  Oh,  oh, 
leg  —  my  foot —  stop,  what  shall  I  do? 


THE    OPAL    STUD.  239 

I  can't  stand ! "  Saying  which  down  she 
came  fiat,  at  the  same  time  scattering  a  lot 
of  parcels  of  all  sizes  and  shapes  around  her. 
"  What  shall  I  do  ?  What  will  Mile.  Victo- 
rine  say  !  My  day  all  gone,  and  half  my 
young  mistress's  things  lost  or  broken,  that 
hateful  Pierre,  the  only  man  left  at  the 
chateau,  and  he  too  lazy  to  go,  and  here  I 
am  with  some  of  my  bones  broken,  and  not 
able  to  budge — ah  !  never  mind,  Mr.  Pierre, 
Louise  will  pay  you  off  yet ;  I'll  let  you  see 
you'll  not  lord  it  over  me  —  before  Pere 
Jean  marries  us  —  it  is  not  too  late  yet  to 
change  my  mind  —  there's  Henri,  he  would 
have  gone  for  me.  I  believe  after  all,  its 
very  well  to  have  two  strings  to  your  bow 
—  worthless,  good-for-nothing  Pierre." 

During  this  soliloquy,  Marie  very  quietly 
stooped,  and  "commenced  replacing  the  va- 
rious articles,  as  best  she  could,  in  a  high 
basket. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Louise,  "  my  little  girl ;  you 
are  a  perfect  angel  to  come  out  such  a  night 
as  this ;  I  would  have  died  but  for  you,  and 


240  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

if  you  can  help  me  to  reach  that  big  mansion, 
I  will  repay  you." 

Then  they  held  a  consultation  as  to  the 
best  plan  of  proceeding,  and  at  last  Louise 
concluded  to  take  ofl'  her  beautiful,  new 
crimson  skirt  and  put  all  her  chattels  in  it, 
and  for  Marie  to  draw  her  home  in  the  bas- 
ket ;  but  that  wonderful  feat  was  intended 
for  more  Herculean  arms  than  Marie's,  and 
after  several  vain  efforts  to  move  the  pon- 
derous weight,  the  lady's  maid  concluded 
she  would  try  to  walk ;  so  off  they  started. 
At  every  step  she  bemoaned  her  sprained 
ankle  ;  bestowed  a  holy  blessing  on  Pierre, 
and  hoped  the  coffee  would  be  good  and  hot 
for  her  on  her  arrival ;  and  lastly,  wondered 
if  she  had  all  her  mistress's  goods,  and  cer- 
tainly both  she  and  the  goods  were  in  a 
beautiful  plight,  to  enter  the  halls  of  the 
chateau ;  but  all  journeys  have  an  end,  and 
after  hobbling,  resting,  jumping  and  leaning 
on  poor  Marie,  the  two  women  reached  the 
gate,  where,  after  giving  the  bell  a  good 
pull,  Louise  kissed  the  hand  of  Marie  and 


THE    OPAL    STUD.  241 

declared  her  to  be  a  perfect  angel  to  whom 
she  owed  her  life. 

"Come  back  here  to-morrow,"  she  said, 
"  and  ask  for  iouise,  and  I  will  reward  you 
suitably.  I  wish  I  had  something  worth 
giving  you  now;  hold  —  wait  till  I  try!" 
And  after  diving  into  several  almost  bottom- 
less pockets,  she  found  there  was  something 
in  one.  "Here  is  a  mere  trifle  to-night, 
but  not  half  you  deserve." 

Which  proffered  gift  Marie  accepting  with 
thanks,  turned  to  start  homeward,  and  be- 
gan, as  if  to  encourage  herself  on  her  dark, 
lonely  journey,  humming  Santa  Maria,  etc., 
on  hearing  Avhich,  Louise  declared  : 

"That  girl  has  no  troubles;  I  wish  my 
foot  was  as  light  as  her  heart !  " 

The  gate  having  at  that  moment  been 
opened  by  the  only  man  at  the  chateau, 
Pierre,  whom  we  will  leave  to  assist  his  lady- 
love upstairs,  whilst  listening  to  many  fer- 
vent blessings  most  devoutly  showered  on 
him. 


CHAPTER    H. 

)OR  Marie,  shivering  from  cold,  and 
knowing  but  little  of  the  neighborhood, 
with  lantern  in  hand,  picked  her  steps  to 
the  best  advantage,  praying  that  her  Holy 
Mother  would  direct  her  footsteps.  After  a 
considerable  walk  she  found  herself  at  home  ; 
and,  going  in  suddenly,  interrupted  her  mother 
and  Annette  in  their  prayers  for  her  safety. 

"  Oh,  thank  God  you  have  come  !  What 
kept  you  so  long?  We  feared  you  were  lost. 
Oh,  how  cold  you  are  !  "  said  Annette,  as  she 
stirred  the  fire,  and  warmed  a  cup  of  coifee 
for  the  almost  famished  girl. 

"I  fear,  my  dear  child,"  exclaimed  her 
mother,  "you  will  suffer  from  your  act  of 
folly." 

242 


THE    OPAL    STUD.  243 

"Well,  mother,  I  don't  expect  to;  I  am 
much  warmer  now ;  and  I  am  going  to  have 
a  grand  recompense  by  going  up  to  the 
chateau  to-morrow.  That  reminds  me  I 
have  something  here ;  I  was  so  cold  I  quite 
forgot  it."  And  then,  feeling  in  her  pocket, 
she  brought  forth  all  Louise  had  given  her, 
and  which  consisted  of  a  few  trifling  coins 
and  a  tiny  box,  which,  on  being  opened,  dis- 
played a  small  but  beautiful  opal  stud,  which, 
to  their  simple  eyes,  seemed  wonderful. 
"  Now,  mother,  do  you  think,"  said  Marie, 
as  she  held  the  gift  up  to  the  light,  ' '  I  will 
suffer  for  my  folly  ?  And  this  is  only  a  trifle 
for  the  present ;  however,  I  will  not  disturb 
Louise  till  I  think  her  bruises  aie  healed ; 
but  to-morrow  I  will  take  this  to  town  with 
me,  and  get  something  handsome.  Ohvwhat 
a  fine  thing  it  is  to  be  rich.  Why,  this  will 
bring  us  a  little  fortune." 

"  But,  child,  are  you  certain  it  is  yours?' 
asked  her  mother. 

"Indeed  I  am,  mother,"  replied  Marie. 
"The  person  I  helped  is  maid  to  some  grand 


244  A   BOOK   FOU   GIRLS. 

lady,  and  she  seemed  truly  grateful  for  my 
timely  assistance,  and  told  me  to  be  sure  to 
come  up  to  the  house  to-morrow ;  but  this 
will  do  us  awhile." 

Next  morning  Marie  started  on  her  various 
errands,  and,  among  others  she  did  not  lose 
sight  of  the  pawn-brokers.  On  making  in- 
quiries, she  was  directed  to  Mr.  Leon's, 
whose  establishment  she  easily  found,  and 
went  in,  quite  proud  of  her  anticipated  for- 
tune. Mr.  Leon,  a  personage  of  very  great 
importance  in  his  own  opinion,  stood  very 
quietly  chatting  at  a  back  window  to  a  friend 
of  still  greater  importance  in  his  own  opin- 
ion. The  entrance  of  the  young  girl  inter- 
rupted their  conversation. 

"  Well,  Mile.,  what  do  you  wish ?  "  asked 
Mr.  Leon. 

"  I  have  an  article  here  I  wish  to  sell  you  ; 
and,  as  I  do  not  know  its  real  value,  I  was 
directed  to  this  place,  you  being  a  most  re- 
liable pawn-broker." 

Mr.  Leon  felt  flattered,  and  still  he  was 
slightly  piqued  at  the  hint  expressed  about 


THE    OPAL    STUD.  245 

his  profession,  and  taking  the  article  from 
Marie,  he  looked  and  re-looked  at  it,  and 
turned  it  in  every  light ;  at  last,  with  a  very 
gracious  smile,  said, — 

"  I  beg  pardon,  Mile.  ;  but  may  I  ask,  is 
this  another  family  relic?  " 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  said  the  simple-minded  girl ; 
"  it  was  given  me  by  a  grand  lady's  waiting- 
maid,  whom  I  saved  from  perishing  last 
night." 

At  which  little  piece  of  information,  Mr. 
Pierre,  our  friend  in  the  rear,  elevated  his 
ears  so  as  not  to  lose  a  s\  liable,  at  the  same 
time  taking  a  peep  from  under  his  hat. 

"Ah,  very  well,"  said  Mr.  Leon,  suppress- 
ing a  laugh  at  the  innocent  one  before  him  ; 
*'  be  seated  a  few  moments,  while  I  examine 
this  more  carefully." 

Saying  which,  he  left  the  shop,  and  as  he 
passed  his  important  friend,  he  beckoned 
him  to  follow ;  and  when  they  reached  an 
outer  room,  he  opened  his  hand,  and  dis- 
played to  the  wondering  gaze  of  Mr.  Pierre 
the  opal  stud. 


246  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

"  Ha,  ha  !  this  is  fine,  I  just  came  in 
good  time.  Now,  Mr.  Leon,  you  keep  her, 
whilst  I  step  outside  and  bring  a  gendarme, 
who  will  settle  her  in  quick  order."  So  off 
inarched  our  friend  Pierre,  muttering  on  his 
way,  "Now  I'll  make  Louise  remember  her 
impudence  ;  worthless  jade  that  she  is.  The 
idea  of  giving  away  my  mistress's  jewels  !  I'll 
summons  her ;  sore  foot  and  all  her  bruises 
put  together,  will  not  save  her  from  my 
vengeance."  And  in  five  minutes  he  re- 
turned with  a  gendarme,  a  man  of  immense 
muscular  frame,  and  a  face  beaming  with 
good-nature.  Seeing  Marie  looking  so 
modest  and  innocent,  his  heart  failed  him ; 
but  having  had  matters  previously  explained 
by  the  officious  Pierre,  he  neither  wished  to 
offend  the  self-opinionated  personage,  nor  his 
young  mistress,  who  was  very  rich  ;  besides, 
his  duty  had  to  be  done,  so  going  quietly  up 
to  poor  Marie,  he  said  as  gently  as  possible, — 

"  Come,  Mile.,  I  am  obliged  to  take  you 
under  my  charge  for  awhile ;  follow  me  !  " 
said  the  officer. 


THE    OPAL    STUD.  247 

"  Who  are  you,  and  what  do  you  want 
with  me  ;  and  where  am  I  to  go  ?  "  cried  the 
poor  girl  in  one  breath.  "  I  am  here  on  busi- 
ness, and  am  waiting  for  Mr.  Leon  to  return. 
I  have  nothing  to  do  with  you." 

"Yes,  Mile.;  and  I  arrest  you  on  the 
charge  of  stealing ;  the  quieter  you  follow 
me,  the  better  for  yourself;  if  needed,  I  can 
force  you." 

"Oh,  my  God,  what  will  I  do? "inter- 
rogated Marie  ;  "  my  poor  mother  and  An- 
nette, what  will  become  of  them  ;  it  will  kill 
them  ! "  and  throwing  herself  on  her  knees, 
she  begged  the  man  to  have  pity  on  her,  de- 
claring she  had  stolen  nothing. 

"All  this  talk,  Mile.,  will  do  no  good; 
you  can  ask  all  these  questions  of  the  Magis- 
trate, but  I  must  do  my  duty." 

Saying  which,  he  placed  his  hand  on  her 
shoulder  and  forced  her  away,  while  she 
asked,  at  least  to  wait  till  she  could  get  her 
money,  showing  evidently  that  the  simple 
girl  did  not  have  the  slightest  suspicion  why 
she  was  under  arrest. 


CHAPTER  III. 

jjHAT  Christmas  Eve,  on  which  so  much 
comfort  was  anticipated  in  Mere 
Adele's  household,  Avhere  were  all  its 
members?  The  poor  widow  and  Annette, 
after  spending  a  miserable  day  of  torture 
and  suspense,  and  inquiring  in  all  directions 
for  poor  Marie,  were  compelled  to  return  to 
their  humble  and  desolate  home,  with  their 
hearts  nearly  broken,  there  to  watch  till  the 
break  of  day  for  the  lost  one.  Oh,  could 
they  have  peered  through  the  rough  wall  of - 
Marie's  prison  cell ;  in  the  depth  of  their 
trouble,  they  would  have  known  from  her 
angelic  appearance,  that  even  in  that  dismal 
spot  her  heavenly  angel  was  guarding  her. 
There  she  knelt  the  greater  part  of  the  night, 
saying,— 

248 


THE   OPAL   STUD.  249 

"Oh,  sweet  Infant  Jesus,  before  whom 
the  shepherds  bow  in  adoration  to-night, 
have  pity  on  me  ;  deliver  me  from  this  cell, 
and  have  pity  on  my  poor  mother.  Oh, 
gentle  Mother  of  Jesus,  thou  who  hast  never 
forsaken  me,  beg  thy  Divine  Infant  to  smile 
on  me,  and  cheer  my  almost  withered  heart. 
TTell  might  I  cheerfully  spend  one  night  in 
a  dungeon  when  He,  the  King  of  all,  came 
for  us  into  this  miserable,  cold  world  ;  mak- 
ing his  advent  in  a  bleak,  comfortless  stable." 

O 

Thus  prayed  Marie  until  from  pure  ex- 
haustion she  fell  into  a  profound  sleep,  from 
which  she  did  not  awaken  until  she  was 
aroused  by  a  very  loud  knock,  and  immedi- 
ately the  gendarme  walked  in. 

"Your  slumbers  must  have  been  very 
heavy,  Mile.  ;  thinking  you  were  friendless, 
I  got  permission  to  see  you,  and  having 
rapped  repeatedly  and  receiving  no  answer, 
I  was  on  the  point  of  retiring,  when  I  thought 
I  would  give  a  regular  rouser,  and  come  in  to 
see  what  was  the  matter.  You  remind  me 
of  my  own  little  sister  at  home,  for  I  am  a 


250  A   BOOK  FOR   GIRLS. 

stranger  here,  and  now  what  can  I  do  for 
you  ?  Have  you  no  friend  I  can  send  you  ? 
Tell  me  quickly  for  my  time  is  passing." 

Marie's  heart  beat  with  joy  as  she  surely 
thought  the  Infant  Jesus  had  really  smiled 
on  her,  and  the  Blessed  Virgin  procured  her 
a  friend. 

' '  A  thousand  thanks  1 "  exclaimed  poor 
Marie;  "  you  can  do  much  for  me.  First, 
tell  me  why  I  am  here." 

"Why,  you  simple  child,"  replied  the 
gendarme,  "  do  you  not  know  that  you  are 
in  prison  on  suspicion  of  stealing;  having 
tried  to  sell  Mr.  Leon  a  valuable  piece  of 

jewelry  belonging  to  Capt.  L .  You 

will  be  tried  to-morrow  or  after,  and  proba- 
bly would  like  to  have  some  advice." 

"  Oh,  may  God  and  the  Blessed  Virgin 
protect  me  from  harm  :  it  is  the  stud ;  now 
I  will  tell  you  all ; "  and  Marie,  in  her  quiet 
way,  told  her  simple  tale.  Being  innocent  of 
locations,  and  knowing  no  name  but  that  of 
Louise,  her  story  was  rather  indefinite  ;  how- 
ever, ho  believed  her  truthfulness,  and  one 


THE   OPAL   STUD.  251 

stranger  having  a  kindred  feeling  for  another, 
he  determined  to  help  her. 

"  Well,''  said  he,  "I  will  do  what  I  can 
for  you.  Have  you  no  relations  ?  " 

At  which  question  the  tears  ran  down 
Marie's  cheeks,  as  she  told  of  her  mother 
and  sister,  naming  where  they  lived. 

"Well,  don't  fret,  that  will  spoil  your 
pretty  face.  I  will  do  my  best,  and  will  see 
you  again  to-morrow." 

I  will  now  conduct  my  young  reader  to 
the  chateau.  There,  in  the  well-lighted 
drawing-room,  before  a  most  inviting  fire, 
sat  Mile.  Victorine  and  her  father,  Capt. 

L ,  who  having  been  severely  wounded, 

had  returned  home  still  an  invalid,  accom- 
panied by  his  faithful  servant,  Jean.  Whilst 
father  and  daughter  enjoyed  each  other's 
society,  the  servants  in  the  lower  hall  had 
grand  rejoicings  over  their  good  master's  re- 
turn. 

The  captain's  old  body  servant  had  been 
killed  in  a  skirmish,  and  from  his  regiment 
his  present  attendant  had  been  selected,  who 


252  A   BOOK  FOR   GIRLS. 

having  twice  saved  his  master's  life,  was 
naturally  held  ia  high  esteem  ;  so,  although 
Jean  was  the  only  stranger  that  was  around 
the  blazing  hearth  ;  still  he  was  the  centre  of 
all  attention,  as  he  rehearsed  the  wonderful 
feats  he  had  witnessed.  Then,  to  one  side, 
the  cook  and  her  assistants,  attending  the 
savory  pots  for  the  approaching  supper,  and 
in  the  far  corner  sat  our  friend  Pierre  and 
convalescent  Louise,  who  having  forgiven 
each  other's  little  failings,  and  settled  their 
anti-matrimonial  disputes,  looked  as  loving 
as  two  cooing  doves.  . 

The  attention  of  Jean's  excited  listeners 
was  disturbed  by  a  terrible  ringing  of  the 
outer  bell,  such  a  pull  as  would  say,  "Don't 
keep  me  waiting."  Even  Pierre,  loath  as 
he  was  to  leave  his  comfortable  quarters, 
jumped  up  at  once,  and  answered  the  call. 
On  opening  the  gate  he  saw  before  him 
Marie's  friend,  the  gendarme. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Pierre,  I  am  delighted  at  last 
to  have  found  you.  I've  been  hunting  the 


THE    OPAL    STUD.  253 

place  for  nearly  an  hour,  and  my  legs  are 
nearly  frozen  !  " 

"  Well,"  answered  Pierre,  "  if  we  remain 
here,  our  noses  will  soon  be  the  same  ;  come 
where  we  can  get  a  snuff  of  the  lire."  So 
Pierre  led  the  way  through  the  long  corri- 
dors, muttering  as  he  went,  "What  impu- 
dence this  fellow  has  to  hunt  me  up." 
However,  both  their  tempers  improved  as 
they  inhaled  the  warm  atmosphere  of  the 
kitchen,  Pierre  forgiving  his  having  been 
disturbed,  and  his  friend  forgetting  his 
nearly  frozen  legs.  Now,  sir,"  said  conse- 
quential Pierre,  "when  you  are  warm  I 
would  like  to  know  how  I  can  serve  you?" 

To  which  the  gendarme  replied:  "You 
can  serve  me  well ;  and  the  sooner  we  talk 
business  the  better.  I  want  to  know  if  you 
can  help  in  any  way,  this  poor  young  girl 
that  you  were  the  cause  of  my  arresting. 
Her  sweet,  -innocent  face  has  haunted  me 
ever  since  I  laid  my  hand  on  her  ;  besides, 
I  saw  her  mother  and  sister  this  evening, 
and  to  my  perfect  a'stonishment,  I  find  her 


254  A   BOOK  FOR   .5IRLS. 

fathei  and  I  were  old  friends.  I  would  take 
my  oath  that  no  child  of  Louis  Dubois  would 
ever  be  guilty  of  theft ;  and  as  I  believe  her 
innocent,  I  will  befriend  her." 

Louise,  at  this  moment  stood  up  and  de- 
clared the  girl  to  be  entirely  innocent,  and 
explained  how  her  own  misfortunes  had 
been  the  cause  of  all  the  trouble,  and  how 
satisfied  her  mistress  was  with  the  explana- 
tion she  had  given  of  the  stud  having,  in 
the  upset  she  got,  fallen  in  her  pocket ;  and 
she,  in  the  dark  having  given  it  to  Marie. 

"Besides,  the  girl  saved  me  from  perish- 
ing, and  I  feel  bound  to  do  what  I  can  for 
her.  So  Pierre  and  I  will  go  to  see  her 
to-morrow,  —  what's  her  name  ?  " 

The  gendarme  standing  up  to  go,  re- 
plied, — 

"Her  name  is  Marie  Dubois,  and  her 
mother  and  sister,  Annette,  live  just  beyond 
here.  The  old  woman  told  me  her  son  was 
fighting,  and  I  will  protect  the  friendless." 

At  the  mention  of  all  these  names,  Jean, 
(who  was  none  other  than  Jean  Jacques), 


THE   OPAL   STUD.  255 

stood  like  one  petrified  ;  and,  at  last,  making 
over  to  the  gendarme,  and  shaking  his  hand 
heartily,  said,  — 

"If  you  are  their  friend,  you  must  be 
mine  ;  for  it  must  be  of  my  mother  and 
sister  of  whom  you  speak,  although  I  left 
them  far  from  here.  Still  the  horrors  of 
war  may  have  deprived  them  of  their  home. 
I  will  go  with  you  at  once  to  decide  the 
question  ;  "  and  starting  without  delay,  they 
soon  reached  the  widow  Adele's  cottage. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

SCARCELY  had  the  gate  closed  when 
the  bell  summoned  Pierre  to  the  draw- 
ing-room. The  captain  on  seeing  him,  de- 
sired Jean  to  be  sent  to  him,  "  For  I  have 
become  so  accustomed  to  his  ways,  that  no 
one  else  can  wait  on  me." 

"Sir,"  replied  Pierre,  "he  has  gone  to 
see  his  mother  and  sister  who  live  below 
here." 

"  Why,  if  Jean  turns-  liar,  I  am  much  mis- 
taken in  him,"  said  the  captain:  "he  told 
me  his  family  lived  on  the  frontier." 

"  Well,  captain,  I  must  explain  it,"  said 
Pierre,  and  then  again  came  out  Marie's 
story,  and  Mile.  Victorine  added,  — 

"  This  is  the  girl  who  was  arrested  for 
trying  to  sell  the  stud." 

256 


THE   OPAL  STUD.  257 

"  Well,  Pierre,  I  will  await  Jean's  return  ; 
send  him  to  me  as  soon  as  he  comes  ;  if  it  is 
his  sister,  I  must  befriend  her," 

An  hour  after  Jacques  returned  truly 
happy  at  the  most  unexpected  pleasure  of 
having  seen  his  mother  and  sister ;  but  sad 
at  heart  on  account  of  Marie. 

Pierre  having  told  his  master's  wishes, 
Jacques  immediately  presented  himself  be- 
fore the  captain,  who  having  heard  his 
recital,  immediately  called  for  both  Louise 
and  Pierre  to  hear  their  version,  at  the  end 
of  which  tedious  explanation,  the  captain 
addressing  them,  said, — 

"As  well  as  I  understand  the  case,  Pierre, 
you  have  acted  too  hastily,  and  without 
judgment ;  I  may  even  add  justice.  Yoji 
should  have  made  inquiries  before  taking 
such  a  decided  step ;  I  fear  a  lecture  from 
your  lady-love  has  been  the  cause  of  your 
acting  precipitately  and  also  without  the 
slightest  consideration  for  others.  How- 
ever, I  being  a  magistrate,  and  the  parties 
being  within  my  district,  I  may  be  able  to 


258  A  BOOK  FOR  GIRLS. 

undo  the  mischief  of  which  you  have  mainly 
been  the  cause.  To-morrow  morning  I  will 
write  an  order  for  the  release  of  Marie,  and 
you,  Pierre,  accompanied  by  Louise,  and  my 
faithful  servant,  shall  take  the  family  coach 
and  bring  Marie,  as  well  as  the  gendarme 
here,  and  in  the  presence  of  all  I  will  exam- 
ine the  affair." 

Early  next  morning  Marie  was  perfectly 
surprised,  by  the  fact  being  announced  to 
her  she  was  released ;  and  still  more  aston- 
ished when,  on  bsing  accompanied  by  the 
gendarme  to  the  coach  that  awaited  her,  to 
find  her  brother  seated  therein.  Her  joy 
was  almost  overpowering ;  she  would  have 
believed  it  a  dream,  but  for  the  embraces 
of  her  brother,  and  the  cheering  voice  of 
Louise,  whom  she  at  once  recognized.  Her 
lips  were  motionless  ;  all  she  could  do  was 
to  give  thanks  from  her  heart,  that  the  aid 
she  had  craved  from  the  Infant  Jesus  had 
scattered  all  her  past  troubles.  When  they 
reached  the  chateau  and  Marie  was  informed 
she  would  have  to  appear  before  Capt. 


THE   OPAL   STUD.  259 

L ,  to  whom  the  stud  belonged,  her  fears 

would  have  terrified  her,  but  for  the  assur- 
ance, that  justice  should  be  done  her.  At 
noon  the  captain  .commanded  that  his  entire 
household  should  appear  in  his  presence. 
After  hearing  the  details  of  Louise's  perilous 
and  unfortunate  journey,  also  Marie's  pre- 
serving her  from  the  terrors  of  the  night,  then 
the  selling  of  the  stud  and  Pierre's  interfer- 
ence, he  at  once  took  the  whole  affair  in  at  a 
glance,  and  looking  at  Marie's  pale,  beautiful 
countenance,  he  called  her  over  to  him,  and 
said,  — 

"  My  dear  child,  you  have  suffered  much, 
and  as  my  property  has  been  unwittingly 
the  cause  of  all  your  troubles,  I  feel  bound 
as  far  as  I  am  able  to  repay  you  in  some 
measure  for  the  pain  of  mind  as  well  as  of 
body  you  have  endured.  You  are  now  freed 
from  prison,  and  perfectly  exonerated  from 
any  dishonorable  dealing.  You  may  now 
return  to  your  mother ;  but  before  leaving, 
I  wish  to  know  how  I  can  serve  you,  what 
do  you  most  wish  for  ?  " 


260  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

"  Many  thanks,  my  dear,  good  gentle- 
man, "  said  Marie,  tears  of  gratitude  stream- 
ing from  her  eyes  as  she  spoke,  "  I  wish  for 
nothing  but  to  return  to.  my  home,  truly 
thankful  for  all  your  kindness  to  me.  Now, 
that  my  brother  is  at  home  I  will,  if  pos- 
sible fly  from  the  world  altogether,  and 
try  to  gain  admittance  into  the  Convent  of 
Our  Lady,  to  whose  intercession  I  attribute 
my  release,  and  the  best  I  can  do  is,  for  the 
remainder  of  my  life  to  bless  her  for  her 
protection." 

"Well,  my  dear  girl,"  said  the  captain, 
"  may  I  ask,  how  much  money  have  you  to 
admit  you  in  the  convent." 

"  None,  captain,"  she  replied,  "  I  have  no 
ambition  above  that  of  a  lay  sister.  I  can 
offer  naught  but  the  strength  of  my  hands, 
and  the  poverty  and  willingness  of  my  grate- 
ful heart." 

"  Such  shall  no  longer  be  the  case,"  re- 
plied the  captain.  "  I  am  delighted  to  have 
it  in  my  power  to  endow  you  with  a  fortune 
quite  sufficient  to  have  you  placed  amongst 


THE    OPAL    STUD.  261 

the  choir-sisters,  and  will  hand  a  check  to 
your  brother  for  that  purpose.  I  will  care 
for  your  mother  and  sister,  who  shall  for  the 
future  belong  to  my  tenantry.  As  for  your 
brother  I  must  keep  him  to  attend  my  per- 
sonal wants  ;"  and  here  calling  Jean,  he  said, 
"  my  faithful  man,  I  can  do  no  better  with 
this  stud  than  present  it  to  you  as  a  memento 
of  the  circumstances  which  have  brought 
your  worthy  family  fully  to  my  knowledge. 
As  for  the  noble-minded  gendarme,  he  may 
rest  assured  his  promotion  shall  be  attended 
to  without  delay,  and  you  Pierre  and  Louise, 
I  think  the  best  thing  you  can  do  is,  as  soon 
as  possible,  to  give  us  the  pleasure  of  attend- 
ing your  nuptials,  thus  putting  an  end  to 
your  spats,  the  effects  of  which  you  see  can 
prove  very  dangerous.  So  now,  my  good 
people,  before  you  disperse,  Pierre  will  dis- 
pense the  hospitalities  of  the  house  to  you 
all  below,  and  the  first  bumper  you  fill,  let 
it  be  drunk  to  the  health  of  Pierre  and  his 
bride  elect." 

Two  months  later,  when  the  woods  began 


262  A    BOOK    FOR    GIRLS. 

to  resound  with  the  early  notes  of  myriads 
of  birds,  and  snow-bound  streams  broke  forth 
from  their  icy  fetters,  kissing,  as  they  passed, 
the  snowdrop  and  sweet  violet  on  their 
mossy  banks  —  in  fact,  one  of  those  pet  days 
when  nature  blooms  forth  in  all  her  new- 
born beauty,  Pierre  led  to  the  altar  his 
blushing  bride,  Louise,  for  whom  little 
Annette  acted  as  bridesmaid,  and  Pierre's 
best  man  was  no  other  than  Jean  Jacques, 
who  on  so  important  an  occasion  did  not 
neglect  to  deck  himself  Avith  the  opal  stud. 

The  ceremony  was  performed  by  Pere 
Jean,  who,  knowing  all  the  secrets  of  the 
bridal  party  was  most  careful  to  doubly 
knot  the  cord  of  wedlock,  so  that  Madame 
Pierre  in  future  would  be  fully  assured,  that 
there  was  no  longer  "two  strings  to  her 
bow."  The  festive  scene  was  graced  by 
many  guests,  but  none  were  more  joyful 
than  the  good-hearted  gendarme,  who  with 
his  partner,  Mere  Adele,  tripped  lightly 
through  the  merry  dance.  And  where  was 
poor  Marie  ?  In  her  quiet  cell  she  prayed 


THE    OPAL   STUD.  263 

that  God  would  bless  the  happy  pair,  who, 
were  the  innocent  cause  of  all  her  bitter 
trials;  true  those  very  trials  had  been  the 
medium  of  bringing  comfort  to  her  family, 
and  had  proved  to  her  the  germ  of  the 
sweetest  consolation  which  she  enjoyed  in 
obtaining  the  protection  of  the  blessed 
Mother  of  God,  and  the  priceless  love  of 
the  sweet  Infant  Jesus. 


ISABELLA. 


jjPRIL  showers  bring  forth  May  flowers." 
Sometimes,  when  the  seed  has  been 
sown  in  good  soil,  not  too  deep,  or  too  near 
the  surface,  or  too  early.  And  as  perpetual 
showers  and  unseasonable  thunder  storms 
will  exercise  an  evil  and  destructive  influence 
on  the  life  and  future  growth  of  the  embryo 
blossoms,  so  will  the  ever-recurring  showers 
and  thunder  storms  of  an  angry  temper  check 
the  fairest  promise,  in  that  sweetest  and  most 
beautiful  of  all  blossoms, — the  heart  of  a 
young  child. 

265 


266  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

It  was  a  blessing  for  Isabella  Hughes  when 
her  mother  died  :  the  expression  may  seem 
strange  and  unnatural,  but  it  is  none  the  less 
true.  Her  father,  an  intelligent  young  Eng- 
lishman, of  good  family  and  excellent  educa- 
tion, had  left  his  native  country,  and  incurred 
the  displeasure  of  his  only  brother,  a  very 
wealthy  man,  in  consequence  of  having  em- 
braced the  Catholic  faith,  and  having  found 
a  situation  as  teacher  of  mathematics  at  a 
private  academy  in  Baltimore,  also  found 
board  and  lodging  in  the  house  ot  Mrs. 
Caroline  Pettigrew,  a  widow  without  chil- 
dren, and  who  joined  to  a  natural  acidity  of 
disposition,  a  most  disagreeable  propensity 
to  fault-finding,  and  an  iron  will,  which 
carried  everything  before  its  arbitrary  sweep. 
Mr.  Hughes  had  not  been  many  weeks  in  her 
house  when  he  was  seized  with  typhoid 
fever,  through  the  various  stages  of  which 
he  was  assiduously  nursed  by  his  landlady, 
whose  regard  for  him  grew  in  proportion  to 
his  helplessness.  Once  convalescent,  weak, 
spiritless,  and  grateful  for  her  kindness,  in 


ISABELLA.  207 

debt,  moreover,  for  board  and  medicine,  lie 
saw  but  one  way  in  which  to  refund  what  he 
owed  her:  in  short,  he  proposed  marriage 
to  Mrs.  Pettigrew,  and  was  accepted.  After 
a  few  years,  the  poor  man  died,  as  he  had 
not  lived,  in  peace.  Baby  arms  were  around 
his  neck  in  the  last  struggle,  and  "•  be  good 
to  her"  were  his  last  intelligible  words. 

Poor  little  Isabella, — her  lot  was  hence- 
forward to  be  cast  in  thorny  ways.  She  did 
not  resemble  her  mother  in  anything  save 
he  complexion  and  hair,  which  were  fair. 
She  had  her  father's  eyes,  blue  and  sparkling, 
his  mobile  lips  and  slender  figure,  and,  alas, 
his  sensitive  disposition.  From  her  earliest 
babyhood,  her  mother's  quick,  sharp  tones 
would  startle  her ;  and  as  Mrs.  Hughes  had 
a  profound  contempt  for  meekness  in  any 
shape  or  form,  it  is  not  wonderful  she  evinced 
no  sympathy  for  Isabella's  predominant  trait. 

"  Isabella,  child,  come  here  this  instant. 
Isabella,  what  are  you  dawdling  about,  up 
in  that  room.  Isabella,  get  ready  this  very 
moment,  and  go  to  school.  Isabella,  is  it 


268  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

your  deliberate  intention  to  be  late  for 
Mass?" 

These  were  specimens  of  her  kindest  mode 
of  address.  But  in  her  angry  words,  —  and 
they  were  not  unfrequent,  —  she  was  terrible. 

Stamping  her  foot  at  the  quiet,  inoffensive 
child,  she  would  shower  forth  invectives  of 
all  kinds,  not  always  unaccompanied  by 
blows ;  indeed,  she  appeared  to  make  the 
little  girl  a  target,  at  which  to  fire  all  the 
loose  ammunition  of  her  bad  temper.  Such 
a  course  was  not  without  pernicious  effects. 
From  a  shy,  loving,  and  sensitive  child,  Isa- 
bella became  silent,  morbid,  and  sullen ; 
harshness  and  unkindness  were  habitual  to 
her,  and,  although  she  did  not  feel  them  less, 
her  heart  resented  them  more  and  more,  as 
years  passed  on.  She  had  few  companions 
of  her  own  age,  her  mother  not  approving  of 
the  association  of  the  school  children  ;  "  they 
were  too  frisky  and  foolish,"  she  said.  Isa- 
bella was  clever,  and  inherited  her  father's 
talent  for  mathematics ;  but  her  reserved 
manner  was  not  calculated  to  attract  either 


ISABELLA.  269 


teachers  or  companions.  "A  sullen,  dis- 
agreeable girl,''  would  be  the  verdict  of  a 
casual  observer,  who,  overlooking  the  flexible 
lips  and  large,  intelligent  eyes,  would  only 
note  the  downcast  face  and  cold,  repellant 
expression. 

Thus  passed  her  loveless,  early  childhood, 
unconscious  of  any  fairer,  lighter  existence 
outside  her  own.  Isabella  often  wondered 
in  what  life  was  beautiful,  and  the  sight  of 
happy  children  always  made  her  feel  mean 
and  annoyed.  She  was  passionately  fond  of 
music,  and  on  an  old  piano  of  her  father's 
she  had  learned  many  an  air,  quite  unassisted. 
Her  mother  would  not  permit  her  to  take 
lessons,  saying  her  means  were  too  limited 
to  allow  of  such  extravagance,  and  on  occa- 
sions, often  forbade  her  to  touch  the  instru- 
ment, for  weeks  together.  Mrs.  Hughes' 
unsocial  disposition  had  always  kept  acquain- 
tances at  a  distance,  and  Isabella's  life  was 
monotonous,  indeed,  until  one  fair,  spring 
morning,  an  imperious  visitor  knocked  at 
the  door,  and  the  hard,  stern  woman  grew 


270  A  BOOK  FOR  GIRLS. 

fearful  and  powerless  before  that  hardest, 
sternest,  most  unwelcome  guest  named  Death. 
A  few  hours  of  suffering,  a  hurried  visit  from 
priest  and  doctor,  and  Isabella  Hughes  stood 
at  her  mother's  bedside  an  orphan  and  alone. 
She  did  not  shed  many  tears  at  first,  but 
after  the  shock  had  become  in  some  degree 
familiar,  all  her  pent-up  feelings  burst  forth, 
and  she  wept,  not  so  much  at  the  loss  of  a 
mother,  who  had  stifled  all  tender  sentiments 
in  her  heart,  as  at  the  dreary  prospect  —  the 
lack  of  love  that  lay  before  her. 

After  the  funeral,  the  priest  who  had 
administered  the  last  Sacraments  to  Mrs. 
Hughes,  informed  Isabella  that  he  had  her 
mother's  will  in  his  possession,  saying,  at  the 
same  time,  that  he  hoped  she  was  pleased 
with  the  arrangements  for  her  future. 

"I  have  not  heard  of  any,  father,"  said 
Isabella  gravely,  and  without  lifting  her 
eyes. 

"Is  it  possible,  my  child?"  he  answered, 
"  are  you  not  aware  that  your  uncle  in  Eng- 
land left  you  a  legacy  some  years  ago,  OD 


ISABELLA.  271 

condition  that  you  should  be  placed  at  a 
convent  school,  from  the  age  of  fifteen  to 
eighteen?" 

"  I  did  not  know  that  I  ever  had  an  uncle 
in  England,  until  now,  father,"  said  Isabella, 
her  cheeks  flushing  slightly  as  she  spoke. 

"  You  knew  your  father  was  an  English- 
man, did  you  not,  Isabella?" 

"Yes,  father;  I  heard  my  mother  speak- 
ing of  him  once  to  Father  Boyce  ;  she  said 
he  had  offended  his  family  by  becoming  a 
Catholic.  That  is  all  I  know  of  him." 

"  Did  your  mother  never  speak  of  him  to 
you?" 

"No,  sir;  my  mother  never  spoke  to  me 
of  anything.  She  did  not  believe  in  talking 
to  children,  she  said." 

"And  do  you  remember  your  father? 
You  were  four  years  old  when  he  died." 

"I  think  I  do,  sir.  Did  he  have  blue 
eyes,  and  was  he  tall,  and  did  he  have  very 
white  hands?" 

"Yes;  he  was  a  delicate-looking  man, 
and  died  young ;  you  resemble  him  in  a  re- 


272  A   BOOK  FOR   GIRLS. 

inarkable  degree.  Your  father  was  a  good 
man,  Isabella,  and  was  much  attached  to 
you,  his  only  child." 

"I  have  often  fancied  he  used  to  kiss  me, 
sir  :  do  men  ever  kiss  their  little  girls  ?  " 

Isabella  was  looking  into  Father  Martin's 
eyes,  now ;  asking  him  a  seemingly  absurd 
question,  with  the  simplicity  of  a  child  of 
six.  And  she  was  fourteen  years  old.  The 
kind-hearted  priest  turned  away  from  her 
questioning  glance  for  very  pity,  lest  she 
should  observe  the  effect  her  words  had 
caused. 

"Certainly,  Isabella,  they  do.  I  have 
often  seen  your  father  kiss  you.  Why 
should  he  not  have  done  so,  as  well  as  your 
mother?" 

"  My  mother  never  kissed  me  in  my  life," 
said  Isabella,  simply. 

"  Your  mother  was  peculiar ;  that  may 
have  been  the  reason ;  but  she  was  very 
good,  —  she  meant  well." 

"Was  she,  Father  Martin  ?  I  don't  know  ; 
I  am  afraid  I  don't  understand  things  very 


ISABELLA.  273 


well.  I  do  not  believe  I  am  good.  I  think 
you  are." 

PJeased  with  .her  frankness,  and  touched 
by  her  painful  simplicity  and  ignorance  of 
all  the  sweet  ministrations  and  joys  of  child- 
hood, Father  Martin  saw,  that  to  continue 
the  subject,  would  be  to  set  himself  adrift 
upon  an  almost  shoreless  sea.  In  the  home 
to  which  she  was  going  she  would  learn  the 
amenities  of  affection  and  kindness,  and  he 
smiled  kindly  as  he  answered,  — 

"lam  far  from  being  what  I  should  be, 
my  dear  child  ;  but  I  must  inform  you  that 
your  father's  brother  became  a  Catholic  in 
the  course  of  time,  and  in  his  turn  saw  the 
beauty  of  the  true  faith,  and  of  its  system  of 
religious  education.  If  your  mother  had 
lived,  she  would  have  placed  you  at  a  con- 
vent school  next  year ;  as  it  is,  you  will  go 
immediately.  My  housekeeper,  or  better, 
perhaps,  my  sister,  will  see  that  you  have 
everything  you  need,  and  I  presume  you 
can  be  ready  in  a  week's  time." 

"  Very  well,  father,"  said  Isabella,  with- 


274  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

out  manifesting  any  sign  of  interest  in  the 
proposed  change. 

"For  the  present  you  will  remain  here 
with  Mary.  She  has  been  a  faithful  servant, 
and  your  mother  did  not  forget  her.  She 
has  left  her  two  hundred  dollars  in  her  will." 

"  She  is  very  cross  and  stingy/'  said  Isa- 
bella ;  "  I  do  not  like  her." 

Father  Martin  passed  his  hand  across  his 
lips. 

"  That  is  owing  to  her  age  and  infirmities, 
no  doubt,"  he  answered. 

"Was  my  mother  rich,  Father  Martin; 
I  thought  none  but  rich  people  made  their 
wills?" 

"Any  one  who  has  something  to  leave 
behind  her  may  make  a  will  in  her  own 
right ;  but  you  will  have  considerable  money. 
Your  uncle's  legacy  amounts  to  about  ten 
thousand  dollars  ;  this  house  is  worth  fifteen 
hundred,  and  the  interest  of  some  railroad 
stocks  left  to  your  mother  by  her  first  hus- 
band, Mr.  Pettigrew,  will  amount  to  about 
five  or  six  hundred  dollars." 


ISABELLA.  275 


"That  is  a  great  deal  of  money.  Will 
you  take  care  of  it  for  me  ?  " 

"Father  Boyce,  Mr.  Arthur  Hanlon  and 
myself  were  appointed  by  your  mother  for 
that  purpose,  Isabella.  We  will  see  that 
you  are  properly  clothed  and  educated  ;  and 
that  your  money  is  safely  and  profitably 
invested  until  you  are  of  age.  After  that 
you  will  be  at  liberty  to  do  as  you  please 
with  it." 

"Thank  you,  sir,  I  would  rather  go  to 
a  school  where  I  should  not  be  obliged  to 
talk  to  the  other  girls.  Do  you  think  you 
could  find  one  for  me?" 

"Such  a  school  should  be  and  is  the  far- 
thest from  my  desires,  Isabella.  You  would 
grow  selfish  and  morose,  if  left  entirely  to 
your  OAVII  thoughts  and  tastes.  You  have 
hitherto  lived  apart  from  young  people  of 
your  own  age,  but  now  you  must  endeavor 
to  conquer  your  aversion  to  society." 

"  Well,  father,  you  know  best ;  but  I  feel 
strange  and  lonely  in  a  crowd ;  girls  never 
like  me,  and  I  do  not  like  boys." 


276  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

"That  will  all  come  right  in  time,  Isa- 
bella. At  the  end  of  a  year,  I  have  no 
doubt  you  will  think  otherwise." 

After  a  few  incidental  questions  on  the 
part  of  Father  Martin,  the  interview  ended, 
and  that  day  week,  after  bidding  farewell 
to  old  Mary,  who,  much  to  her  surprise, 
shed  tears  at  parting  with  her,  Isabella 
found  herself  sitting  opposite  Father  Martin 
and  Mr.  Hanlon,  in  the  last-named  gentle- 
man's carriage,  rolling  over  a  smooth  turn- 
pike road,  farther  away  from  Baltimore  than 
she  had  ever  been  in  her  short,  uneventful 
life.  At  the  expiration  of  a  couple  of  hours, 
passed  in  almost  complete  silence  by  the 
young  girl,  Father  Martin  bade  her  look  out 
of  the  window  to  catch  the  first  glimpse  of 
her  home. 

The  house  stood  on  a  high  hill,  in  the 
midst  of  a  plantation  of  fine  trees,  and  was 
accessible  only  by  a  steep  and  Avinding  road. 
Juct  now,  in  the  blaze  of  the  setting  sun,  its 
m&iiy-paned  and  numerous  windows  looked 
Ilk"*  burnished  gold,  and  the  gilt  spire  that 


ISABELLA.  277 


crowned  the  gothic  chapel  of  grey  stone  in 
the  background,  sparkled  as  though  touched 
with  pencilled  points  of  fire.  They  were 
still  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  but  through 
the  thick  growth  of  trees  and  shrubbery, 
Isabella  caught  the  echo  of  the  young  voices 
and  merry  laughter,  and  as  they  drove 
slowly  up  the  ascent,  the  flutters  of  blue 
dresses  among  the  firs  made  a  pretty  con- 
trast to  their  sombre  green.  About  half 
way  from  the  gate  they  passed  a  beautiful 
shrine,  and  the  grounds  in  front  of  the 
house  were  tastefully  laid  out  with  flowers. 
A  group  of  small  children  were  seated  on 
the  steps  that  led  to  the  main  entrance  ;  but 
at  sight  of  the  carriage  they  tripped  slyly 
away.  Something  of  pleasure,  mingled  with 
curiosity,  spoke  from  Isabella's  eyes  as  she 
met  Father  Martin's  kindly  glance. 

"It  is  a  recreation-day,  Isabella,"  said 
Father  Martin  ;  "you  will  have  a  good  oppor- 
tunity to  become  acquainted  with  your  com- 
panions on  this  account." 


278  A  BOOK  FOR  GIRLS. 

She  returned  his  kindly  glance  with  a 
pleasant  smile,  but  did  not  reply. 

"  Here  we  are  ;  "  said  Mr.  Hanlon,  as  the 
carriage  driver  opened  the  door,  and  in  a 
few  moments  more  Isabella  and  the  two 
gentlemen  were  seated  in  the  parlor,  await- 
ing the  entrance  of  the  Lady  Superior. 


"How  do  you  like  the  new  boarder, 
Sybilla  ? "  asked  the  tallest  of  a  group  of 
several  girls,  turning  to  the  one  beside  her. 

"I  haven't  thought  much  about  her," 
replied  the  other ;  "  she  is  very  quiet,  don't 
you  think  so  ?  " 

"  Quite  glum,  is  what  I  should  call  her," 
said  a  third;  "she  never  speaks  to  any  of 
us,  and  looks  as  though  she  thought  we 
wanted  to  bite  her." 

"  She  has  just  lost  her  mother,  Annie," 
said  the  first  speaker,  "and  it  is  natural 
for  her  to  feel  lonely." 

"But  she  is  such  a  cross-looking  thing, 
Flora.  One  needn't  be  cross,  even  if  one 


ISABELLA.  279 


is  in  trouble  ;  particularly  when  people  try 
to  be  friendly." 

"  Have  you  been  trying  to  be  friendly, 
Annie  ?  "  said  Flora,  smiling. 

"  Yes,  of  course,  I  have.  Sister  told  me 
to  show  the  new  scholar  to-morrow's  lesson, 
and  I  did.  After  that  I  thought  I  would  be 
real  nice,  you  know,  for  I  felt  sorry  for  her, 
she  looked  so  blue.  So  I  said,  '  Won't  you 
come  out  and  walk  in  the  avenue  ? '  And 
what  do  you  think  she  said  ?  " 

"I'm  sure  I  can't  tell,"  answered  Flora; 
"what  was  it?" 

"  *No  !'  plain  *  no '  without  even  a  smile." 

"  Poor  thing,"  said  Flora  ;  "  she  is  a  little 
odd,  I  think,  but  she  does  not  look  cross 
to  me.  Perhaps  she  has  never  been  with  so 
many  girls  before,  and  may  be  very  shy. 
I  think  she  is.  I  know  how  lonely  and 
out  of  place  I  felt  for  the  first  day  or  two. 
There  she  comes  now,  with  Sister  Anselm. 
Let  us  go  to  meet  them." 

The  girls  went  forward  and  Sister  Anselm 
said  kindly,  as  she  released  Isabella's  hand  : 


280  A  BOOK  FOR  GIRLS. 

"Young  ladies,  Isabella  has  not  seen  the 
shrine.  You  will  have  time  to  show  it  to 
her  before  the  bell  rings.  Flora,  I  commit 
her  to  your  charge  ;  you  must  try  and  make 
her  feel  at  home." 

Flora  put  her  arm  around  Isabella,  and 
the  kindness  of  the  action  was  not  unnoticed 
by  the  lonely  girl.  She  raised  her  eyes  with 
a  look  that  meant  "  thank  you,"  and  the  girls 
turned  towards  the  leafy  glade,  some  walk- 
ing leisurely,  others  skipping  gaily  down 
the  path.  Isabella  and  Flora  fell  behind 
the  rest,  and  when  some  moments  had  been 
passed  in  silence,  Flora  said  : 

"You  have  been  here  a  week  to-day,  I 
believe.  Do  you  like  the  convent?" 

"  It  is  a  very  large  house,  and  handsomely 
built,"  answered  Isabella. 

"I  did  not  mean  the  building,  but  the 
Sisters  and  the  girls,  and  the  way  the  school 
is  conducted." 

"I  don't  think  I  know  more  than  two  or 
three  of  the  Sisters  ;  but  I  liko  them.  You 
and  two  or  three  others  are  the  only  girls 


ISABELLA.  281 


that  have  spoken  to  me  out  of  school 
hours." 

"They  are  a  little  timid  about  making 
advances.  You  don't  seem  to  want  to  make 
friends ;  you  are  so  quiet  and  reserved  ; " 
said  Flora,  drawing  her  arm  close  around 
the  slender  figure;  "no  doubt  you  feel 
lonely,"  she  continued,  "  but  if  you  once 
make  up  your  mind  to  bo  contented,  I  think 
you  will  not  find  it  hard.  We  are  all  very 
happy  here." 

"  I  do  not  feel  lonely,"  answered  Isabella, 
"  I  feel  strange.  I  have  never  been  with 
other  girls  much.  My  mother  did  not  like 
me  to  play  with  children  ;  she  thought  they 
were  foolish.  I  am  not  used  to  playing 
games  like  the  girls  play  here." 

"You  will  soon  become  accustomed  to 
our  ways,  Isabella,"  said  Flora  ;  "  we  are  a 
little  noisy,  but  you  will  not  mind  that,  in 
time,  either." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  it  at  all.  But  you  are 
not  noisy.  I  like  to  see  you  walk  across  the 
floor." 


282  A   BOOK  FOR  GIRLS. 

Flora  laughed.  "I  am  more  than  six- 
teen, Isabella  ;  too  old  to  be  noisy." 

"  I  am  fourteen,  but  I  never  was  noisy,  I 
think.  Do  you  like  to  read  poetry?" 

"  Yes,  why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"That  girl  with  the  light  curls  told  me 
you  were  the  poetess  of  the  school.  She 
said  you.  wrote  acrostics.  I  know  what  they 
are,  I  have  read  about  them  in  my  Encyclo- 
paedia. Will  you  write  one  for  ine?" 

Flora's  face  reddened,  and  she  looked  a 
little  confused  as  she  answered, — 

"  I  do  write  verses  sometimes,  but  it  is 
generally  when  there  is  some  entertainment 
on  hand.  But  I  wish  the  girls  would  not 
say  it  of  me." 

"  I  think  I  should  like  it,  — I  mean  to  be 
able  to  write  poetry.  Will  you  write  some 
for  me  to-day,  when  I  can  see  you?  I  have 
never  seen  any  one  writing  poetry." 

"Yes,  if  it  pleases  you;  but  I  can't  do 
much.  Here  we  are  at  the  shrine.  Isn't  it 
beautiful?" 

Within  a  delicately  carved   trellis  work, 


ISABELLA.  283 


canopied  and  shaded  by  a  wreath  of  vines 
and  llovvers,  was  a  statue  of  the  Madonna, 
holding  the  Infant  Jesus  in  her  arms.  The 
attitude  and  expression  were  perfect,  and  a 
gentle  hush  fell  upon  the  lively  group  as 
they  knelt  on  the  outer  step  for  a  moment 
to  offer  up  a  fervent  Hail  Mary.  Tears 
were  trembling  in  Isabella's  eyes  when  she 
arose. 

"  I  think  it  is  very  easy  to  be  good  here," 
she  said  aloud.  Then  turning  to  Flora,  she 
continued  :  "  You  are  the  best  girl  in  school ; 
she  told  me,"  looking  at  Annie,  who  blushed 
like  fire. 

A  subdued  titter  ran  through  the  group 
of  girls ;  and  Flora,  forgetting  her  own 
embarrassment,  in  the  fear  that  Isabella 
might  feel  hurt  at  the  thoughtlessness  of 
the  rest,  drew  her  away  from  the  steps,  say- 
ing*— 

"  Annie  talks  at  random  sometimes.     We 

had  better  get  back  to  the  playground  before 
the  bell  rings." 

But  Isabella  had  noticed  the  laugh  at  her 


284  A  BOOK  FOR  GIRLS. 

expense,  and  not  conscious  of  having  given 
any  cause  for  merriment,  she  said,  in  a  chok- 
ing, hurried  voice, — 

"  Why  do  they  laugh  at  me?  I  said  what 
was  true.  She  did  tell  me  so,  and  I  believe 
it;  you  are  the  only  one  who  did  not  laugh. 
I  like  you  ;  but  I  shall  not  talk  to  the  others 
any  more." 

"  Oh,  Isabella,  do  not  say  that,"  answered 
Flora,  leading  her  into  a  by-path;  "they 
did  not  intend  to  hurt  your  feelings,  and 
they  laughed  to  see  Annie  look  confounded. 
They  were  a  little  surprised  at  your  frank- 
ness, too." 

"1  will  stay  by  myself  after  this,"  said 
Isabella  ;  "  I  am  not  used  to  girls  like  that. 
At  the  school  where  I  went  in  Baltimore,  I 
never  played  with  the  rest ;  my  mother 
would  not  let  me,  and  I  suppose  I  am  differ- 
ent from  other  people." 

"  Oh,  no,  you  are  not,  Isabella.  We  are 
not  allowed  to  go  by  ourselves,  here,  and  it 
is  a  wise  rule.  We  don't  have  a  chance  to 
grow  discontented  or  unhappy." 


ISABELLA.  285 


"  I  am  not  unhappy,"  said  Isabella,  fixing 
her  eyes  on  the  ground. 

"But  you  are  not  very  happy,  are  you? 
You  do  not  feel  like  running  and  skipping ; 
and  you  don't  care  to  join  the  others  at 
recreation,  do  you?" 

"  I  am  too  tall  and  old  to  run  and  skip," 
answered  Isabella,  almost  laughing,  "  but  I 
never  feel  like  it,  either." 

"I  am  taller  and  older  than  you,  and  I 
often  take  a  run  down  the  hill  in  the  morning 
and  evening,''  said  Flora. 

"  My  mother  used  to  scold  me  when  I 
screamed,  or  ran  down  stairs  fast ;  she  said  it 
was  like  a  torn-boy.  Have  you  got  a  mother  ?  " 

Flora  never  forgot  the  tone  in  which  Isa- 
bella uttered  these  words,  and  in  them  she 
read  the  sorrowful  experience  of  a  short  life- 
time. It  was  as  though  she  had  asked : 
"  Have  you  a  persecutor?  Or,  you  seem  so 
hippy,  you  cannot  have  a  mother." 

Her  heart  warmed  to  the  strange,  friend- 
less girl,  as  she  answered, — 

"  Yes,  indeed  I  have,  and  the  best  mother 


286  A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

any  one  ever  had.  I  am  sure  you  would 
love  her  if  you  knew  her." 

"  Have  you  a  father,  too  ?  "  asked  Isabella, 
in  a  soft  tone. 

"Yes,  and  two  dear  little  sisters,  and  a 
great,  tall  brother." 

"  I  think  I  should  have  loved  my  father," 
said  Isabella  earnestly,  "  I  am  sure  you  are 
happy/' 

The  ringing  of  the  bell  brought  the  con- 
versation to  a  sudden  close,  and  the  girls 
went  to  the  different  class  rooms.  At  the 
evening  recreation,  many  of  them  had  re- 
marks to  make  on  the  "odd  behavior "  of 
the  new  girl,  to  whom,  however,  they  did 
not  give  equal  credit  for  acute  observation  or 
sensitiveness. 

But  she  saw  that  they  considered  her  pe- 
culiar, and  kept  aloof  from  them  as  much  as 
possible.  After  supper,  Flora  brought  her 
out  of  the  corner  in  which  she  had  hidden 
herself,  and  they  walked  up  and  down  the 
corridor  together,  until  the  bell  rang  for 
night  prayers. 


ISABELLA.  287 


The  next  day,  Flora  contrived  to  make 
Isabella  the  centre  of  a  group  of  the  largest 
girls,  who  were  just  beginning  Algebra. 
The  previous  evening,  she  had  discovered 
Isabella's  penchant  for  that  study,  and  al- 
most before  she  knew  it,  she  found  herself 
talking  interestedly  and  without  embarrass- 
ment. Sister  Anselrn  joined  them  after  a 
while,  and  Isabella  felt  quite  contented  when 
she  Avas  by,  for  the  kind  sister  had  attracted 
the  child's  heart  at  first  sight. 

For  some  time  it  was  difficult  to  draw  Isa- 
bella from  the  reserve  which  long  habit  and 
the  forced  repression  of  her  feelings,  had  ren- 
dered almost  natural.  And  the  apathy  and 
silence  to  which  her  former  surroundings  had 
accustomed  her,  were  very  often  mistaken 
by  her  companions  for  indifference  and  cold- 
ness. But  Flora,  who  had  read  the  girl's 
heart  on  the  clay  of  the  visit  to  the  shrine, 
understood  her  better,  and  although  young 
and  inexperienced  herself,  her  intuition  told 
her  of  hidden  springs  of  warmth  beneath 
the  surface. 


288  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

Beloved  by  all  her  teachers  and  compan- 
ions, the  fact  of  her  adoption,  as  it  were,  of 
the  poor  child,  went  far  towards  making  Isa- 
bella more  popular  than  her  own  best  en- 
deavors could  have  done.  Little  by  little, 
her  shyness  wore  off;  she  became  accus- 
tomed to  her  new  life,  and  grew  to  like  it ; 
the  repressed  tenderness  of  her  nature  found 
many  an  outlet  in  mutual  acts  of  kindness, 
and  she  had  not  been  a  year  at  the  convent 
before  she  was  a  general  favorite. 

She  became  deeply  attached  to  Flora  in 
particular,  to  whom  much  of  the  credit  of 
the  happy  change  was  due.  Father  Mai  tin 
expressed  great  pleasure  at  her  satisfaction 
and  improvement,  and  delighted  her  one 
morning  by  telling  her  she  had  grown  won- 
derfully like  her  father. 

The  year  drew  to  a  close,  Flora's  last  at 
school,  and  a  few  evenings  before  the  Dis- 
tribution day,  she  and  Isabella  were  walking 
in  the  garden,  near  the  shrine. 

"Do  you  remember  the  first  time  we 
came  here  together,  Flora,"  said  Isabella, 


ISABELLA.  289 

* '  and  how  the  girls  laughed  when  I  spoke 
of  your  being  better  than  the  rest?" 

"Yes,  I  have  never  forgotten  it.  I  felt 
sorry  for  you  that  day  you  seemed  so 
lonely." 

' '  And  I  was  lonely,  although  I  did  not 
know  it  myself.  You  opened  my  heart." 

"  Don't  pay  any  compliments  to-day,  Isa- 
bella ;  you  gave  me  enough  then  to  last  for 
two  years." 

"I  do  think  you.  write  pretty  verses, 
Flora  ;  I  will  keep  that  Acrostic  as  long  as  I 
live." 

"  In  another  year  you  will  be  one  of  the 
largest  girls,"  said  Flora,  "and  my  verse 
writing  will  not  do  me  much  good  in  the 
world,  I  am  afraid." 

"  Oh,  yes,  it  may  ;  you  can  write  for  the 
magazines  and  papers,  and  I'm  sure  they'll 
all  be  glad  to  have  whatever  ^pu  send 
them." 

Flora  laughed  merrily.  "  You'll  be  get- 
ting romantic  next,  Isabella,"  she  said. 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  shrine. 


290  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

The  setting  sun  was  throwing  its  slanting 
rays  athwart  the  thick  nasturtium  vines  that 
shaded  the  enclosure,  and  the  sweet  breath 
of  blossoming  honeysuckles  came  Heating 
through  the  evening  air. 

O  O 

"  The  dear,  old  Convent,"  said  Flora, 
'*  and  this  blessed  shrine.  How  strange  it 
seems,  to  think  that  I  am  going  to  leave 
them  forever." 

"Do  you  know,  Flora,  I  shall  never  come 
here  without  thinking  of  you  ?  " 

"  And  then  you  will  always  pray  for  me." 

"  Yes  ;  and  I  never  do  come  here,  as  it  is, 
without  thinking  that"  —  she  hesitated,  and 
Flora  looked  at  her  inquiringly.  "Well,  I 
can't  exactly  say  what  I  mean,  but  it  seems 
to  me  that  I  shall  always  feel  sorry  for  new 
girls,  and  try  to  make  them  get  over  their 
home-sickness.  I  might  have  been  an  icicle 
yet,  if  3^ou  had  not  been  kind  to  me." 

"  Sister  A nselm  would  have  thawed  you 
out,  long  before  this,"  said  Flora. 

"May  be  so,  but  I  don't  know  ;  I  love  her 
a  very  great  deal,  though." 


ISABELLA.  291 


Flora  parted  the  boughs  that  hung  over 
the  entrance  to  the  shrine,  and  once  more 
they  knelt  together  at  the  feet  of  the 
Madonna. 

The  angelus  bell  sounded  from  the  village 
church  down  in  the  valley,  and  Flora  re- 
peated the  angelical  salutation,  whilst  Isa- 
bella responded  aloud. 

"Modest  little  shrine  amid  the  trees; 
how  many  hearts  remember  you,  with  joy 
forever." 

Dear  girls,  I  was  once  a  girl  like  you  ; 
school  life,  my  world ;  my  companions,  its 
inhabitants,  embracing  as  many  different 
traits  of  character  as  though  it  was  meas- 
ured by  miles,  instead  of  one  little  acre,  or 
perhaps  not  more  than  half  so  much.  If  this 
simple  story  bears  a  moral,  let  it  read — that 
in  the  school-room  world,  which,  all  things 
told,  is  not  so  small,  all  can  find  good  work 
to  do  ;  and  though  in  every  school  there 
may  be  found  Isabellas,  there  would  not  be 
one-half  so  many  lonely,  hidden,  friendless 
hearts  if  there  were  many  Floras. 


THE  MAY  QUEEN. 


j|T  was  May  Eve.  The  inhabitants  of 
a  picturesque  hamlet  in  one  of  the 
Alpine  cantons  of  Switzerland  had  donned 
their  holiday  attire,  and  were  gathered  to 
celebrate,  with  dance  and  song,  the  recur- 
rence of  their  favorite  fete.  The  maire  has 
invited  them  to  his  pretty  chalet,  and  before 
the  open  windows,  on  the  gentle  ascent  com- 
manding a  view  of  the  snow-clad  hills  beyond 
the  silvery  lake,  the  musicians'  play  the  intro- 
ductory music,  and  dancing  is  commenced. 

293 


294  A  BOOK  FOR  GIRLS. 

"It  is  too  soon,  too  soon  yet,"  cried  one 
of  the  assembly  ;  "you  should  wait  till  our 
Queen  is  chosen." 

The  dissent  caused  the  music  to  cease,  and 
the  dancers  to  stand  idly  for  a  moment, 
when,  suddenly,  all  are  startled  by  the 
thrilling  sweetness  of  a  voice,  which,  with  a 
strange  unearthly  cadence  in  its  depths,  en- 
toned  the  following  words  :  — 

"She  who  in  weakness  hath  nursed  Him, 

Who  with  Him  in  exile  hath  been, 
Who  'neath  the  cross  did  not  falter, 
Alone  is  our  festive  Queen." 

A  silence  as  of  death  fell  on  the  merry- 
makers. The  fervent  solemnity  of  the  un- 
expected utterance  pierced  their  hearts. 
They  all  at  once  felt  that  a  higher  and 
nobler  purpose  than  their  own  amusement 
must  have  drawn  them  together,  and  their 
souls  were  lifted  up  by  the  opportune  re- 
minder. The  gaze  of  all  was  riveted  on  a 
figure  in  the  open  balcony,  which  filled  them 
with  a  holy  awe  and  reverence,  such  as 
might  be  inspired  by  a  vision  from  heaven 


THE   MAY  QUEEN.  295 

itself.  It  was  that  of  a  young  girl  of  fifteen, 
clad  in  a  long,  clinging  robo  of  spotless  white, 
with  a  bodice  of  pale  blue,  and  a  sash  of  the 
same  tint,  hanging  down  almost  to  her  feet. 
Her  head  was  uncovered,  and  her  luxuriant 
hair  floated  over  her  shoulders.  Her  short 
sleeves  displayed  arms  pure  and  white  as 
those  of  an  infant ;  and  her  beautiful  feat- 
ures, irradiated  with  the  inspiration  of  her 
song,  had  a  look  in  them  of  the  celestial 
home  to  which  she  was  evidently  hastening. 
Her  large  eyes  shone  with  a  strange  light, 
her  red  lips  were  apart,  and  the  hectic  flush 
on  her  cheeks  deepened,  as  she  gazed  with 
encouraging  love  on  the  upturned  faces  of 
the  villagers.  Some  of  the  older  wept,  but 
the  younger  ones  shouted  aloud,  "  It  is  Marie, 
it  is  Marie,  and  she  must  be  our  Queen  !" 

"  Yes,  yes,"  was  the  general  exclamation, 
"  Marie  shall  be  the  Queen  of  the  May  ! " 

Marie,  the  only  and  beloved  daughter  of 
the  village  maire,  was  her  father's  pride,  and 
the  idol  of  all  who  knew  her.  Consumption 
had  laid  its  fatal  hold  upon  her,  and  it  was 


296  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

in  compliance  with  her  express  desire  that 
her  companions  has  been  bidden  hither  this 
evening,  that  she  may  witness  the  festival. 

"Yes,  yes,"  was  the  re-echoed  cry; 
"Marie  shall  be  our  May  Queen.  Her 
crown,  her  crown  !  " 

It  was  brought,  a  wreath  of  fair,  white 
lilies  displayed  on  a  blue  cushion.  Two 
young  girls  were  chosen  to  ascend  the  outer 
stairs  and  place  it  on  her  young  head.  This 
done,  they  knelt  before  her,  according  to 
the  festive  wont,  to  offer  the  regal  salutation  ; 
but  they  could  only  clasp  her  hands  in  theirs 
and  burst  into  tears.  She  smiled  brightly, 
and  stooping  forward,  kissed  their  foreheads, 
and  sent,  as  their  queen,  a  command  to  those 
below  to  resume  their  merry-making. 

Scarcely  had  they  regained  their  compan- 
ions when  again  the  voice  of  Marie  sang  out 
in  unearthly  sweetness  the  conclusion  of  her 
hymn  :  — 

"  Fain  would  I  remind  you  of  Mary, 

Her,  only  who  spotless  liath  been; 

At  her  feet  I'll  lay  all  your  homage, 

She  alone  is  our  May-day  Queen." 


THE   MAY  QUEEN.  297 

In  obedience  to  Marie's  behest,  the  amuse- 
ment went  on  more  heartily  than  ever  ;  but 
they  celebrated  -the  May-eve  no  longer  as  a 
mere  custom,  but  in  honor  of  her  who  is  the 
Queen  of  Heaven  and  of  the  sweet  May 
month. 

The  festivities  had  come  to  a  close.  The 
night-stars  glimmered  in  the  moonless  sky, 
when  a  sudden  brilliancy  illuminated  the 
balcony,  from  which  their  May  Queen  had 
been  smiling  down  upon  her  dutiful  subjects. 
They  looked  up,  and  beheld  Marie  reclining 
in  an  attitude  of  calm  repose.  A  crucifix 
was  clasped  to  her  heart,  and  on  her  head 
the  crown  of  lilies  glistened  in  their  white- 
ness. The  smile  of  love  still  peacefully 
lingered  on  her  lips,  but  her  pure  spirit  had 
soared  to  heaven.  Their  May  Queen  was 
dead. 


FATHER  IS  COMING. 


JUSH,  Nellie  ;  father  is  coming." 

There  was  an  instant  hush  in  the 
merry  laugh  of  the  golden- haired  Nellie ; 
the  sweet  smile  died  a\vay  from  her  lips,  and 
a  chill,  as  of  ice,  passed  over  her  heart. 

And  all  because  "Father  is  coming." 
Mr.  Parker  kept  the  sunshine  to  garnish  his 
office,  and  brought  home  the  clouds  to 
darken  his  home. 

The  art  of  making  home  happy,  is  greater 
than  the  art  of  gaining  wealth  or  honor  or 
position.  It  is  one  seldom  learned  or  ap- 
preciated. It  had  not  been  learned  by  Mr. 

209 


300  A   BOOK  FOR   GIRLS. 

Parker.  Xo  ;  he  had  been  too  much  en- 
grossed in  gathering  up  riches  to  heed  the 
pleadings  of  the  hearts  of  those  who,  gath- 
ered about  the  home  circle,  watched  and 
waited  his  coming,  as  the  inhabitants  of  the 
Arctic  zone  watch  the  coming  of  the  sun. 
And  when,  instead  of  bright  eyes  and  sunny 
beams,  there  fell  upon  the  hearth-stone 
harsh  looks  and  cold  responses,  do  you 
wonder  that  the  dreariness  of  home  was 
made  still  more  drear,  and  the  bounding 
heart  became  chilled  by  their  influence  ? 

"  Father  is  coming." 

"Is  he?" 

"  Yes  !  Shut  the  picture  book  and  lay 
aside  the  playthings.  No  more  laughter  or 
innocent  mirth  now." 

Mr.  Parker  had  not  always  been  so.  In 
fact  he  still  was,  as  of  old,  the  kind  provider, 
and  even  most  attentive  to  the  wants  of  his 
family.  He  surrounded  his  wife  with  all  the 
luxuriance  that  wealth  and  taste  could  ob- 
tain, and  even  prided  himself  on  the  com- 
forts he  was  daily  showering  on  her. 


FATHER   IS   COMING.  301 

But  there  was  a  painful  comparison  in  the 
mind  of  that  wife  as  she  watched  the  flutter- 
ing of  a  golden-winged  canary  in  its  gilded 
cage.  The  sense  of  imprisonment  was  keenly 
felt.  The  bird  was  fed  and  kept  in  royal 
slavery.  And  how  much  better  was  she 
than  the  bird  before  her?  How  the  change 
came  would  be  difficult  to  narrate.  Doubt- 
less it  was  not  intentional,  but  was  no  less 
effective.  All  this  while  no  cross  words 
were  spoken  except  by  the  eyes  and  conduct 
of  the  husband.  And  Agnes,  as  she  saw 
how  indifference  was  gradually  taking  the 
place  of  love  ;  as  she_  watched  the  complete 
engrossment  of  her  husband's  mind  in  his 
business,  grieved  in  her  heart  at  the  bleak 
prospect  before  her.  So  grew  up  a  partial 
estrangement  of  heart.  Their  sympathies 
were  not  in  common,  their  feelings  were 
not  the  same.  Not  they  were  wanting  in 
husbandly  duty  and  wifely  faith.  But 
there  was  a  link,  once  possessed,  but  now 
lost. 

But  the  lost  link  ?     Where  was  it  ?     Under 


302  A   BOOK  FOR   GIRLS. 

what  rubbish  of  years  did  it  lay  hid? 
"  Father  is  coming." 

As  he  entered,  the  mother  whispered  to 
Nellie,  and  the  child  leaves  the  room.  She 
returns  in  a  moment  and  makes  some  reply. 
Mr.  Parker  looks  on  but  says  nothing. 

"Dinner  will  soon  be  served,"  said  his 
wife  in  answer  to  the  thought  that  evidently 
engrossed  his  attention  at  that  moment. 

He  seated  himself  by  the  window,  picked 
up  a  paper  and  commenced  reading. 

A  few  minutes  passed  in  silence,  each 
busy  with  their  own  thoughts. 

He  was  vexed  at  the  delays ;  she,  con- 
scious of  giving  no  offence,  was  irritated  at 
his  morose  manner,  gave  up  all  ideas  of  con- 
ciliatory measures,  and  so  widened  the  breach, 
At  last  the  dinner  bell  sounded. 

The  meal  was  soon  over,  Mr.  Parker  arose 
from  the  table,  took  his  hat,  and  was  about 
leaving  when  his  wife  asked, — 

"  What  time  will  you  be  home  this  even- 
ing?" 

"  I  cannot  tell,"  was  the  response.     "  My 


FATHER    IS    COMING.  303 

business  may  detain  me  longer  than  usual. 
Why  do  you  ask  the  question  ?  " 

"  I   thought  of  taking  Nellie  out  to  see 

O  O 

Aunt  Eunice." 

' '  Well ,  you  can  be  home  when  I  re- 
turn." 

"  If  I  knew  what  hour  you  would  come 
up,  yes." 

Mr.  Parker  paused.  Then  remarking 
"  Well,  be  home  early,  at  any  rate, "left  the 
room. 

The  uncertainty  of  the  reply  almost 
tempted  Mrs.  Parker  to  adhere  to  her  inten- 
tion, and  pay  the  visit  contemplated.  For 
a  moment  she  pondered  over  it,  and  then 
her  good  angel  triumphed.  She  would  re- 
main at  home  even  at  the  sacrifice  of  the 
pleasure  of  Nellie.  The  child  heard  the 
decision  ;  if  it  brought  a  tear  to  her  eye  we 
need  not  wonder,  and  in  the  heartache  of 
one  the  other  joined, — 

"  Never  mind,  mother,  I  can  wait." 

"Thanks,  darling,"  was  all  the  mother 
could  reply. 


304  A   BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 

Early  evening  came,  but  no  Mr.  Parker. 
His  wife  patiently  waited. 

The  hour  went  on.  Still  he  came  not. 
On  the  sofa  Xellie  lay,  her  golden  hair  fall- 
ing over  her  face  — asleep.  She  had  grown 
weary  watching.  The  mother,  too,  sat  in 
an  easy  chair  by  the  side  of  the  centre  table, 
endeavoring  to  read.  But  the  words  ran 
into  one  another,  and  she  was  forced  to  close 
the  book,  and  as  her  head  dropped  upon  her 
hand,  and  there  came  the  vision  of  the  3'ears 
when  every  cloud  had  a  rainbow,  she  con- 
trasted the  happy  "then  "to  the  unhappy 
"  now, ''and  sighed  over  her  condition.  She 
learned  the  lesson  that  wealth  does  not  confer 
peace  ;  that  gold  cannot  purchase  happiness. 

Her  eyelids  softly  closed,  and  sleep  — 
"  best  boon  to  mortals  given  "  —  came  to  her 
'  in  her  grief  and  waved  her  soothing  wings 
over  her  perturbed  heart.  And  as  she  slept 
she  must  have  dreamed  sweet  dreams  ;  for  a 
smile  played  over  lips  and  she  murmured : 
"  Love  me,  love,"  as  though  of  old  a  sweet 
confession  was  being  made. 


FATHER    IS    COMING.  305 

The  door  opened  and  Mr.  Parker  entered. 
He  paused  just  as  the  threshold  was  crossed, 
and  gazed  for  a  few  moments  on  the  picture 
before  him.  It  was  one  worthy  the  pencil 
of  a  master-painter. 

And,  as  he  paused,  Nellie  speaks.  But 
she  does  not  move.  Mr.  Parker  listens. 

"Mother,  mother,  why  don't  papa  love  us ? 
"NVhy  don't  he  smile  as  he  used  to  do? 
Mother — mother,  why  don't — .he — love — ' 

The  low  voice  of  Nellie  died  away,  and 
the  heart  of  the  father  is  smitten  as  with  a 
rod.  Truly  conscience  asks  why?  Nellie 
still  sleeps.  So  does  her  mother.  And  as 
husband  and  father  draws  nearer  to  them 
again  a  smile  played  about  the  lips  of  his 
wife,  and  again  she  murmurs,  "Love  me, 
love." 

Mr.  Parker  is  on  his  knees.  He  takes  the 
hand  of  Agnes  in  his  own.  She  awakes 
with  a  loud  cry  of  surprise,  but  as  she  hears 
the  words,  "  Forgive,  my  long  suffering,  yet 
patient  Agnes,"  she  buries  her  face  in  his 
bosom.  Nellie,  too,  awakes,  and  is  added 


300 


A    BOOK   FOR   GIRLS. 


to  the  group.  And  as  she  wonders,  and  looks 
with  smiling  eyes  from  the  face  of  one  to 
the  other,  she  feels  that  something  must  have 
happened  while  she  slept. 

Truly,  something  had  happened.  The 
link  had  been  found,  and  to  it  a  little  child 
had  led  them. 


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